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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28217331">New Slang</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shushu_yaoi_lj/pseuds/shushu_yaoi_lj'>shushu_yaoi_lj</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bullying, Draco's POV, Fluff and Smut, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Injuries, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Red String of Fate, Rimming, Soulmates, a shrinking sofa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:34:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>25,294</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28217331</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shushu_yaoi_lj/pseuds/shushu_yaoi_lj</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He muttered the simple spell, the one he had been practising since he was little, one of the first ones he had begged Mother to teach him.<br/>“Vinculum,” he whispered, and the emerald green thread appeared, still tied around his little finger, but lying limp and severed, hanging from his hand, still sparking and emitting a faint shimmering light, but irretrievably broken. Since the Battle of Hogwarts.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>113</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1066</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Craftybadger1234/gifts">Craftybadger1234</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Huge thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_tea_blue_pens"> black_tea_blue_pens</a> for her help with this fic.<br/>Additional thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire/pseuds/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire"> Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire </a> and Ava for their support.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>“New slang when you notice the stripes</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The dirt in your fries</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hope it's right when you die, old and bony</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dawn breaks like a bull through the hall</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Never should have called</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But my head's to the wall and I'm lonely.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The Shins, “New Slang”</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    
  </strong>
</p><p>Draco stared at the train, that ugly and noisy machine that he used to like. Salazar, it felt like a lifetime ago, when he used to enjoy going to Hogwarts, to learn new things, chat with his friends, mess with Potter and try to get him in trouble.</p><p>Now he just stood there, on his own. Someone walked by and spat on his cloak, a muttered “bloody Death Eater”. He tried to ignore it, biting on his cheeks, clenching his fists. He waited for them to leave before getting his wand out to clean the mess and that’s when he noticed it.</p><p>He was used to people staring nowadays, but he could have felt those green eyes on him in a crowd. He turned and Potter was there, a few feet away from him, surrounded by a protective wall of Weasleys, who were shielding him from all his admirers and the first years who had never seen him before, trying to catch a glimpse of the saviour of the Wizarding World.</p><p>Potter lifted his chin up at him, the smallest greeting, the only one he would possibly get that day. And he nodded, turning straight away, grabbing his trunk and getting on the train, trying to find an empty carriage, hoping that no one would come and look for him.</p><p>He buried his nose in an old book, one of the few things he had managed to salvage from the Manor in that long summer spent clearing and scrubbing it clean, supervised by a team of Aurors, who barely said a word to him during those months of silence and loneliness. They took care of the magical artifacts and the mess the Dark Lord had left behind. He was simply asked to clean, making that massive house presentable again. The Ministry was hoping to find someone willing to buy it. Shacklebolt had told him that the money would be used for the War Fund, a charity that looked after the orphans and the families who had lost loved ones in the War.</p><p>He realised that he didn’t care as much as he should have. But that was the case with pretty much everything these days. With Father locked away in Azkaban, Mother under house arrest at Aunt Andromeda’s, unable to even see him before he left for his own forced year at Hogwarts. It was part of his sentence after the Trials. One year at Hogwarts and then the impossibility to leave the country for at least 5 years.</p><p>But none of it mattered.</p><p>What really carved a hole through him was one particular loss.</p><p>Not of his home. Not of his parents, nor of his freedom.</p><p>But the death of his soulmate, only that, was enough to make breathing hurt. To make him tear up as he looked outside, the English countryside zooming by, his chest tight and his hand gripping his wand.</p><p>He muttered the simple spell, the one he had been practising since he was little, one of the first ones he had begged Mother to teach him.</p><p>“<em>Vinculum</em>,” he whispered, and the emerald green thread appeared, still tied around his little finger, but lying limp and severed, hanging from his hand, still sparking and emitting a faint shimmering light, but irretrievably broken. Since the Battle of Hogwarts.</p><p>He had spent the war checking on it, every time he had a moment to himself, every time he could hide in the bathroom to cast that simple spell to make sure his bond was still pulsing, still stretching from his finger and fading into the distance, still alive.</p><p>After the Battle, when the Dark Lord had finally been defeated and everyone was suddenly just standing there, unsure of what to do, people started gathering in the Great Hall, where all the bodies had been taken. There were so many, crying wizards and witches crouching over them, young and old. And that’s when he started worrying, wondering if one of them was his soulmate. What if he was there? What if he was dead?</p><p>He had taken Mother’s wand from her hand, rushed to the toilet, locked himself behind closed doors and whispered the spell, trembling fingers holding the wand tight. And it was gone. The green thread was cut, no longer stretching taut, but lying limp from his little finger.</p><p>He didn’t even cry. The Aurors found him hyperventilating, his eyes open wide, when they forced the door open, put him in an <em>Incarcerous</em> and then took him to Azkaban. He had wanted to go back, to check the bodies one by one, to try to figure out which one of them was his soulmate. But it was too late and he was stuck in a dark cell, alone with his grief and loss.</p><p>His mother’s wand was taken. He couldn’t do any magic, not until after the Trials, not until Harry Potter came to see him at the Manor, at the end of that horrible summer, two days before he was due back at Hogwarts, to give him back his own wand. He had stood in the doorway, avoiding his eyes, until Draco had said: “well, are you coming in or what?”</p><p>“I’d rather not,” he had said, forcing him to take a walk in the gardens, their steps on the gravel loud and surreal, until Potter had come to a stop and had taken the wand out, handing it to him without a word.</p><p>“Th-thank you,” he had managed to say. Two simple words that took so much out of him. A curt nod was all he had got as reply, before Potter’s piercing eyes locked with his, so bright behind those ugly glasses of his. Then a loud crack had followed and he was left alone again. </p><p>A startling noise outside of his compartment shook him out of his memories. The door opened and Luna Lovegood stood there, a dreamy smile on her face.</p><p>“Hello Draco,” she said, “what are you doing here on your own?”</p><p>He shrugged, uneasy around her, after what had happened at the Manor. After all the times he had to bring her food and a kind word, when she was locked in their dungeons, worried he might have to dispose of her body like the others, praying that she would be safe.</p><p>“I’m going to join the other Ravenclaws, but this looks like a good spot to lie low,” she said, turning and staring into thin air. She was weird, that was no surprise. She stepped aside and waved goodbye, then shut the door and disappeared down the corridor. He huffed and stretched his legs. His trousers were too short. He had no money left to buy new robes, with his Gringotts vault frozen and the meagre allowance the Ministry had granted for his Hogwarts equipment. He was forced to buy second hand books in a hurried trip to Diagon Alley that had left him injured and covered in insults. The house elves had helped him sort out his uniform, making the sleeves longer, stretching his trousers and robes, but to no avail. He had managed to grow a few inches in the last couple of weeks and by then the elves were gone and he didn’t know any spells to tailor clothes.</p><p>The compartment door opened again and he turned, stiffening at the sight of the large group of students, all staring at him, suddenly quiet.</p><p>“It’s just the Death Eater,” a blonde girl said. He noticed hands going for their wands, his own fingers gripping his, hoping not to have to use it. His sentence had been clear. No improper use of magic, no attacks, no dark magic. Azkaban still had an empty cell with his name on it.</p><p>“Have you seen Harry Potter?” a little first year asked, clearly unfazed by the tense atmosphere his friend’s words had created.</p><p>“No, I haven’t,” he replied, hoping they would leave him alone, without hexing him.</p><p>“Strange, we’ve checked every single compartment!” a Hufflepuff said, shaking his head. They started leaving, but not before one of them threw a stinging hex at him and another one made his shoe laces disappear.</p><p>It could have been worse, he told himself.</p><p>The door was shut again and this time he locked it with a strong <em>Colloportus</em>. He didn’t have any money for the food trolley anyway. He had made himself a sandwich with some stale bread he had left, before leaving the Manor, probably for the last time.</p><p>He was trying in vain to focus on his book again, when his eyes suddenly noticed something. A flicker or light, an odd reflection, a sudden rustling of fabric.</p><p>Surely not.</p><p>He sat up straight and moved his legs, stretching them again, brushing against something and not seeing anything when he checked.</p><p>“How long have you been sitting there for, Potter?” he asked, looking in front of him, raising an eyebrow in defiance.</p><p>“Long enough to know that you’re not making much progress with that book,” came the reply from thin air.</p><p>“Are you hiding from your admirers in the pariah’s compartment?” he asked, closing the book and crossing his long legs.</p><p>“What if I am?” Potter replied, still hiding behind his invisibility cloak.</p><p>“The least you could do is show yourself,” he said, waving his hand in Potter’s direction, “if you’re going to spend the whole journey here.”</p><p>“Shut the blinds, will you?” came Potter’s reply. He felt like telling him to fuck off, but there wasn’t much fight left in him these days. What was the point anyway? At least he had some company, after all those months spent talking to house elves and to himself.  </p><p>So he got up and shut the blinds and then jumped when Potter cast a locking spell so strong that it made the door rattle.</p><p>“Show-off,” he muttered, shaking his head and earning a smirk from Potter, who emerged from his cloak with ruffled hair (even worse than usual, surprisingly enough) and his bright green eyes. He was still short and skinny, his hair a dark mess on his head, but there were dark circles under his eyes, a tired look on his face. As if the end of the war didn’t quite agree with him.</p><p>“Are you planning on spending the year getting hexed by Hufflepuffs?” Potter asks, tilting his head.</p><p>“Are you planning on minding your own fucking business?” he replied, because at least his sentence didn’t say anything about using his tongue as a weapon.</p><p>“Suit yourself,” Potter shrugged, which made the anger surge in him, in spite of his best efforts to try to keep it at bay all the time.</p><p>“It’s not like I have any other choice, you know? It’s either take it or go to Azkaban. And I’ve spent a few weeks there, which was enough to last me for a lifetime.”</p><p>Potter just sat there in silence, long enough to make Draco regret his outburst and then he looked outside and straightened his glasses.</p><p>“I know,” he muttered, “but you can’t let them get away with it for too long.”</p><p>Draco huffed and looked outside too. The weather had turned for the worse, the rain making it nearly impossible to see the green fields and grey sky.</p><p>“Your hair is longer than it used to be,” Potter said.</p><p>“Yours is as shit as usual, I’m afraid,” he replied.</p><p>He had let it grow, just past his shoulders, unable to care anymore about such trivial things. His mother wasn’t there to tell him what was appropriate or not for a young Malfoy and anyway, what difference did it make? He had no one to seduce, no one to spend the rest of his life with.</p><p>His soulmate was dead.</p><p>“It looks…” Potter continued, ignoring Draco’s snarky comment, “good on you. You look less fake.”</p><p>“Well, thanks for sharing your insight into the disgrace that is my life, Potter. I won’t have to cry myself to sleep anymore, now that I know you approve of my current hairstyle.”</p><p>Potter simply sat there and stared at him, unfazed, then he opened his bag and started getting food out.</p><p>“Are you planning on feeding the whole Hogwarts Express?” Draco asked, feeling incredibly hungry. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper meal. Probably the night before the house elves were taken away.</p><p>“Help yourself,” Potter said, “Mrs Weasley gave me enough food to last me for the first month at Hogwarts.”</p><p>“No, thank you,” he said haughtily, raising an eyebrow and regretting it immediately, when his stomach started rumbling really loudly. Potter laughed and handed him a pork pie. He grabbed it, but refused to thank him.</p><p>“Where’s the rest of the Golden Trio anyway?” he asked, wondering why Granger and Weasley had disappeared. Potter stared at him.</p><p>“What?” he asked, before filling his mouth with the delicious pie.</p><p>“Do you not read the papers?” was Potter’s reply.</p><p>“I’ve stopped reading them. Too many articles on how I should be rotting in Azkaban with my father,” he said, avoiding Potter’s gaze.</p><p>“I see,” he said, “well, Ron is helping George run the shop and Hermione’s still in Australia.”</p><p>“What on earth is Granger doing in Australia? Did she ditch Weasley for an Aussie?”</p><p>Potter nearly spat out his food and started choking. Draco offered him some water, suddenly worried at the thought of being found with an unconscious Boy Who Lived Twice in his carriage.</p><p>“Merlin, you really don’t read the papers. The Prophet spent weeks covering the story.”</p><p>“I told you,” he said, shaking his head, “I’ve stopped reading them.”</p><p>“She had to erase her parents’ memories during the war, to protect them. She went back to Australia to look for them as soon as the war was over, which she’s managed to do last week. But it’s taking her ages to restore their memories properly.”</p><p>“Hmm,” he mumbled, “what about your girlfriend?”</p><p>Potter lowered his gaze and then put the pasty he was holding on the seat, getting it all dirty. Draco felt like telling him that he had no manners, but he sensed the tension in Potter and he preferred shutting up for once and letting him answer his question.</p><p>“She’s playing for the Harpies,” Potter finally said, “she won’t be returning to Hogwarts.”</p><p>They spent the rest of the journey in relative silence, munching on Potter’s food, making the occasional comment on Draco’s book or on who was returning for their eighth year (not a single Slytherin, except for Draco, and a handful of students from the other houses).</p><p>“Why are you all dressed in black?” was Potter’s last question, when it was time for him to change into his school uniform and get rid of those faded jeans of his, “you were wearing black robes when I came to the Manor too.”</p><p>“Ever heard of minding your own business, Potter?”</p><p>He shrugged and continued looking at him, waiting for an answer. Draco sighed.</p><p>“When someone close to you dies, you’re supposed to don black clothing for at least three months.”</p><p>“Who died?” Potter asked, then horrified “please tell me you’re not doing it for <em>him</em>.”</p><p>“What?” Draco said, revolted by the thought, “Potter, I’m as relieved as you are by the Dark Lord’s death, believe it or not. It’s for…someone else.”</p><p>It was clear that Potter wanted to ask more, intrigued as always by anything that smelled like a secret, but the train came to a halt and the other students started moving, so Potter had to hide again under his cloak.</p><p>As soon as they got off the train, Potter took his cloak off and disappeared into Hagrid’s massive embrace.</p><p>“Harry!” the man shouted, tears at his eyes, “so glad yer back!”</p><p>Draco shivered, looking at the Thestrals, wondering why on earth Lovegood looked like she was giving one of them a cuddle. Weirdo.</p><p>He tried to keep to himself during the ride to the castle and then McGonagall was there, asking everyone to line up and telling the eighth year students to enter the Great Hall for last. And he was standing there, looking at the familiar faces, seeing hatred on most of them, as Potter chatted to Longbottom and Abbott, until the doors opened for them and he felt like a cold shower washing over his back.</p><p>He hadn’t thought about it. Refused to think about it. About all the bodies laid out for the mourners, some nearly unrecognisable, his soulmate one of them. It didn’t help that the room looked the same as before the war, that the Hall was packed with cheerful students and candles were lighting it up in a festive way.</p><p>All he could see were the bodies.</p><p>He felt a wave of nausea at the back of his throat, cold sweat on his back, and he started shaking his head, taking a step back and then another, until he found himself running down the corridor, opening the door to the same toilet where he had hidden so many weeks ago, nearly a lifetime ago. And he emptied his stomach, until he felt tears running down his cheeks, holding his own hair back. He collapsed on the cold floor, catching his breath, a little whimper escaping his lips. And then he heard it.</p><p>The door opened again, someone panting, short breaths caught in their throat, the click of the lock and then the distinctive noise of knees hitting the floor.</p><p>Draco cast a cleaning spell on his mouth, stood up on shaky legs and slowly opened the door of his cubicle, only to find Harry Potter, his eyes shut as he rested his head against the wall and tried to breathe.</p><p>“Potter…”</p><p>The other boy opened his eyes, a frantic glint in them, and just stared at him. He then covered his face with his trembling hands and continued wheezing, his fingers shaking over his eyes.</p><p>He didn’t even know why he did it, but it just came naturally, for some unknown reason.</p><p>“<em>Respira</em>,” he said. It was a spell his Mother had used on him countless times over the War and the years that led to it. When it all got too much and Draco had panic attacks that left him breathless and useless. Potter’s shoulders slumped and he inhaled and exhaled normally, casting him a curious glance as the colour returned to his face.</p><p>“Thank you,” he whispered and then the door opened with a bang and McGonagall appeared.</p><p>“If you think it’s acceptable to have a fight the first minute you’re back here,” she started saying, but then she noticed Harry shaking his head and Draco’s panicked expression and stopped.</p><p>“I was having a panic attack and Malfoy helped me,” Potter explained and McGonagall looked at him, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.</p><p>“I…” he swallowed loudly, “I was sick…”</p><p>She studied them for what felt like endless minutes, until she gestured to follow her.</p><p>The sorting ceremony had already started, the hat was shouting out the different houses the little first years were being assigned to. Draco sat down among his fellow Slytherins and tried to relax, tried not to think, to breathe. In through his nose, out through his mouth, his fingers tapping nervously against his thumb, one at a time. He cast a glance towards the Gryffindor table and found Potter staring back at him, an unreadable expression on his face, so he looked away.</p><p>When the food appeared, Draco felt his stomach turning, a wave of nausea threatening to make him sick again, so he just sipped on some water, closing his eyes, ignoring the stares from the other students. He used to feel safe sitting at this table, but now he didn’t know how to feel safe anywhere anymore.</p><p>When dinner was finally over, McGonagall asked the eight-year students to stay behind and once the Hall was empty, she made them all stand up and gather up near the teacher’s table. There were only a handful of them, ten boys and five girls.</p><p>“I would like to welcome you all back to Hogwarts,” the Headmistress started, “it fills me with joy to have you all back to complete your N.E.W.T.s and the rest of the staff is equally enthusiastic about your return. Now, I know some of you have completed part of your seventh year and might just need to fill the gaps in your knowledge.”</p><p>Her eyes lingered on Draco and Longbottom, but there didn’t seem to be malice in them.</p><p>“That’s why I am going to give you the freedom to study independently and attend the lessons that you need in order to complete your studies,” she continued, “you are all eighteen and old enough to be responsible.”</p><p>A few students seemed surprised and enthusiastic at the idea of being able to skip lessons and study independently. Draco knew he would still be expected to attend every single one of them. The terms of his probation were clear.</p><p>“I am not, however, going to put you in your respective Houses,” McGonagall said, “you will be paired up with another student and you will share a room with your own bathroom and commodities.”</p><p>Draco’s back stiffened. He was counting on being back amongst his fellow Slytherins as the only consolation of this shitty predicament. With his luck he was going to be paired up with a complete wanker who was going to make this year even more miserable. As if she were reading his mind, McGonagall started telling them who they were going to share a room with, ladies first. He immediately noticed that she had mixed houses and everyone looked confused and uncomfortable.</p><p>“Potter, you’re going to share a room with O’Mallen, near the kitchens,” she said pointing at a Ravenclaw boy who immediately smiled like Christmas had come early. Another fan of the Boy Who Lived. Potter looked like he was going to be sick. “Malfoy and Smith will share a room in the Astronomy Tower.”</p><p>“I’m not sharing a room with that,” shouted Smith, affronted, pointing a finger at him. Draco rolled his eyes, whishing that he could say the feeling was mutual. Everyone knew that Zacharias Smith was an utter knob.</p><p>“Excuse me?” McGonagall said, raising an eyebrow and fixing a glacial glare on Smith that made even Draco feel uncomfortable, but apparently didn’t work on the blonde Hufflepuff.</p><p>“I don’t feel safe sharing a room with a Death Eater,” everyone seemed to flinch and stared at him, “my parents won’t allow it. I haven’t come back to Hogwarts just to be murdered in my sleep.”</p><p>“Don’t be ridic-“ started McGonagall, but she was interrupted by a raised hand.</p><p>“I’ll share with Malfoy,” Potter said calmly, “Smith can swap with me.”</p><p>Draco stared at him, as did everyone else and an uncomfortable silence followed.</p><p>“Are you sure, Harry?” the Headmistress asked, studying him and then looking at Draco when Potter nodded and then shrugged. “Mr Malfoy?”</p><p>Draco felt all the eyes land on him, wondering if they all thought he was going to try to murder the saviour of the wizarding world in his sleep.</p><p>“It doesn’t make any difference for me,” he finally answered and then crossed his arms in front of his chest and tried to look casual, probably failing miserably.</p><p>“Very well, then. The Prefects should be back any minute and they will escort you to your rooms. They have been set up to magically match your needs as soon as you set foot in them. I will see you tomorrow morning, when we’ll discuss your timetables.</p><p><em>Something to look forward to</em>, thought Draco bitterly. He had no idea what kind of career he could hope for now, so he was at loss when it came to choosing which subjects to take. He used to have plans. He used to have hopes and dreams. Now he had a sentence and apparently Harry Potter as a roommate.</p><p>He followed the Ravenclaw Prefect up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower, which had been badly damaged during the Battle. Potter was quiet, trailing behind him and looking relaxed when Draco cast a glance in his direction.</p><p>Once they found the room, the Prefect waved her farewell and it was just the two of them. Draco let Potter open the door and just stood there, realising that not in a million years he would have thought he could end up sharing living quarters with Harry Potter. For a whole year.</p><p>He finally got in and he looked around, whilst taking his shoes off. Potter just kicked his trainers off and they flew into a messy pile near the door, the barbarian. There was a small kitchen with a sink and a hob; Draco even spotted an oven and an assortment of pots and pans hanging from the wall. Not that he knew how to cook. He saw a comfy looking white sofa tucked in a corner and two chairs around a small square table. A door led to the bedroom, which was fairly big and contained the two four-poster beds, one in Gryffindor and one in Slytherin colours, two desks on the side with a matching pair of bookshelves and wardrobes. A door in between the beds led to the en suite bathroom.</p><p>“At least it looks nice,” were the first words Potter uttered since their arrival, while he sat ungracefully on the bed.</p><p>“You didn’t have to swap with Smith,” was Draco’s reply, “I don’t need your pity, Potter.”</p><p>Green eyes met his and stared at him in confusion.</p><p>“Pity?” Potter asked, “You think I did that out of pity?”</p><p>Draco nodded, refusing to stare back at him, feeling ashamed and like he just wanted to lie in bed, close the curtains and disappear.</p><p>“Malfoy, I don’t pity you. I think you’ve been punished enough,” started Potter, his eyes still fixed on Draco, “you’re under house arrest for the next two years. You can’t meet your mum in the meantime and you won’t be able to see your dad for at least 15 years. You can’t even leave the country.”</p><p>“Thanks for reminding me of how shitty my life is,” he said, shaking his head, keeping his hands busy unpacking his belongings.</p><p>“I think you got what you deserved and I don’t pity you,” his words cut like a blade, but Draco couldn’t really argue back. Potter was right. And his sentence was actually lighter than expected only because Potter and his friends had testified in his favour, saving him and his mother from Azkaban. “I didn’t want to share a room with that Ravenclaw lunatic anyway. And Smith is a knob; everyone knows that. At least you will avoid getting hexed and I won’t have to wake up in the middle of the night with a crazy fan taking pictures of me while I sleep. So it’s a win-win situation for both of us, don’t you think?”</p><p>A win-win situation.</p><p>Draco wouldn’t have exactly used these words to describe his life.</p><p>“You also seem to know a useful spell for when I have my panic attacks,” added Potter, taking his cloak off. Draco suddenly realised that Potter was going to undress in front of him and felt like he might start hyperventilating himself any minute.</p><p>“I’m not your personal Mediwizard, Potter,” he said, heading for the en suite as he noticed Potter unbuttoning his shirt. Because he was a healthy gay young man and he had eyes. And Potter was…well, he was not exactly a scrawny git anymore. And Draco was not going to get a boner the first evening in his new room. Nope, he absolutely refused to be turned on by Harry bloody Potter and his lack of boundaries. He cast a glance at his roommate as he shut the door behind him and stopped for a second, noticing the lean body and the gentle curve of Potter’s back as the shirt slid down his shoulders. Draco’s eyes roamed on smooth skin, noticing a few scars on his arms and trousers hugging that breath-taking backside in such a delicious way. Potter turned and caught his gaze, and Draco shut the door, feeling his cheeks catching fire.</p><p>Marvellous, now he was hard.</p><p>Fucking brilliant.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Huge thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_tea_blue_pens"> black_tea_blue_pens</a> for her help with this fic.<br/>Additional thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire/pseuds/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire"> Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire </a> and Ava for their support.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>He woke up feeling groggy, opening his eyes and staring at Harry Potter sprawled on his own bed, snoring peacefully. His blankets were cast aside and his t-shirt was scrunched up under his armpits, showing part of his chest and his flat belly. Draco frowned and tried to remember where the fuck he was and why he was looking at a sleeping Boy Who Lived Twice. Then he remembered and he grimaced.</p><p>He rubbed his eyes and yawned, getting up. He was adamant he had left the curtains of his bed shut when he went to bed the previous night. How on earth had he managed to open them in his sleep? The room was surprisingly warm and he got up to head for the bathroom. When he came back, Potter was still asleep.</p><p>Good, he thought, at least he could head out without having to face him and do a repeat of yesterday evening’s awkward dance around each other. Truth be told, Potter seemed at ease and it was Draco who was skittish and kept on casting furtive glances at him. But still, one can never be too cautious around a previous mortal enemy who had turned surprisingly hot in the past few months. Okay, maybe years.</p><p>He didn’t even know what they were to each other anymore. After Draco had purposely refused to recognise him and hand him to the Dark Lord, saving Potter’s life. After Potter had saved his life from the Fiendfyre.</p><p>Sometimes he felt like he needed a new language to redefine all his life.</p><p>Everything had changed and he didn’t know what was what anymore.</p><p>He got dressed in silence, trying to make as little noise as possible. Potter turned and mumbled in his sleep, kicking the blankets off the bed and showing strong calves and bare feet. Draco couldn’t help but stare at them, his mouth watering at the thought that he had spent the night sleeping next to a barely dressed Potter (who apparently only wore an old T-shirt and boxer-briefs to bed). He swallowed loudly, stepping closer to peek at his sleeping body, trying to catch a glimpse of what lay dormant between his legs, when Potter suddenly stirred, making Draco jump.</p><p>“Mmmh…” he mumbled, “Malfoy?”</p><p>“I was about to head out for breakfast,” he said, faster than the speed of light, “you’d better hurry up, otherwise you will be late for our first day back. Not that you give a monkey’s arse, I bet, since everyone will be just delighted to see you. Anyway, off I go. Cheerio!”</p><p>Potter just frowned at him, squinting his eyes and looking bemused and then groaned as he got up, scratching the skin around his belly button as Draco closed the door behind him and ran for his life.</p><p>It was still too early for breakfast, so he decided to go to the library and look for a few books that he needed (including one on tailoring spells to sort out his uniform). It was peaceful and empty and Draco finally relaxed, surrounded by books, inhaling the familiar smell of old tomes and dust. The library had always been his safe haven, even at the Manor. It reminded him of lazy afternoons spent flicking through the pages of a good novel or of productive weekends doing research, back in the days when Hogwarts was still a school and not a war zone.</p><p>It was the first day back and no one was there. The only person who ever went to the library this early was Granger anyway, and she wasn’t back. He wondered how Potter was going to face a whole year without his sidekicks, after seven years spent glued to each other’s sides.</p><p>He missed his own friends. Pansy, who had refused to come back, fearing the backlash after her attempt to offer Potter to the Dark Lord. Blaise, who had fucked off to France with his mother. Goyle, who was still in Azkaban. Crabbe... </p><p>After an hour of peaceful reading, Draco looked at his pocket watch and decided that it was time to head for the Great Hall for breakfast. He was starving, his stomach empty and churning painfully, but as soon as he got there, he felt the dread from the night before. The memories of that night, of all the corpses laid to rest. His soulmate amongst them.</p><p>A student pushed him out of the way, after he had frozen in front of the open doors and he finally snapped out of it and found a spot at the end of the Slytherin table. The other students cast suspicious glances at him, but at least they didn’t hex him.</p><p>He stared at the food laid out on the table and swallowed loudly. There was no fucking way he was going to keep anything down. He felt the distinctive weight of Potter’s eyes on him and he looked at the Gryffindor table, finding him with a matching pale face, nauseous look and a desperate glint in his eyes. Potter nodded at him and tilted his head at the door.</p><p>Surely not?</p><p>He stood up and motioned at Draco to follow him, and he found his feet moving of their own accord, tagging after Potter, not even knowing why. Maybe he had finally decided to hex him for good and rid the world of him. It should have been a relief, really, but Draco felt like he was clinging to life like a mussel to a rock these days, surprisingly enough.</p><p>He quietly followed Potter down an empty corridor and then downstairs, wondering why it was taking so long to find an open classroom to cast an Unforgivable on him, when they suddenly stopped.</p><p>The kitchens.</p><p>He wasn’t surprised by the fact that Potter knew where they were, nor by the way he got in without any issue and the House-elves nearly threw a party when they saw him. What really baffled him was seeing Potter handing him a plate full of food and sitting down on the floor next to him, filling his mouth like a caveman and munching loudly on his full English breakfast.</p><p>Draco spent the whole breakfast staring at him, unabashedly, wondering what the fuck had happened in the past few months to make Harry Potter not want to murder him.</p><p>They got up, without a word uttered between the two of them, and headed back to the Great Hall, where McGonagall was supposed to give them their new timetables. They went to their respective tables and people stared at them, whispering behind their backs.</p><p>When the timetable landed on him, Draco studied it with his lips stretched in a thin line. It was actually good. More or less the same as last year with the exception of Defence Against the Dark Arts, which he couldn’t do due to his sentence, and the addition of Muggle Studies. It was a shame because he would have loved to become a curse breaker and that required a N.E.W.T. in DADA.</p><p>He saw Potter standing up and marching towards the teachers’ table, a frown on his face as he talked animatedly with the Headmaster and she gently took his elbow and escorted him out.</p><p>Draco’s first lesson was double Potions. His favourite. Slughorn welcomed them all back and all the seventh-year students sat next to each other. He was the only eighth year and he sat on his own at an empty table in the corner, hoping they would all forget about his existence.</p><p>They were supposed to work on healing potions and as soon as they started setting up their ingredients on the table, the door opened and Potter appeared, a grumpy look on his face as he apologised for being late and then scanned the room, crossing it amongst excited whispers, to plop his bag on the floor at Draco’s feet and sit down ungracefully next to him.</p><p>“There’s plenty of free spaces,” whispered Draco.</p><p>“Were you waiting for someone?” Potter asked, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>“No, but I don’t see why you needed to take the one next to me.”</p><p>“Make sure you get to know each other well,” Slughorn said, “because the person you’re working with today will be your partner in crime for the rest of the year.”</p><p>“Are you fucking kidding me?” Draco hissed under his breath, “you’re absolutely useless at potions.”</p><p>“At least I have a pretty face,” Potter said with a smug look. Draco felt his cheeks catching fire, which only made Potter laugh. Had he been too obvious? He needed to put an end to it.</p><p>“I didn’t even want to take Potions,” Potter whined, “and McGonagall is not making me take DADA either.”</p><p>“Why do you even care? You don’t need them to become an Auror anyway. All you need to do is floo to the Ministry, knock on Shacklebolt’s door and smile. They’ll make you an Auror in under two minutes.”</p><p>“What makes you think I want to?” Potter said, looking away, his frown deepening and his shoulders suddenly tense. Draco started chopping his ingredients, mulling things over. What had Potter meant by that?</p><p>“Why can’t you take DADA?” he asked, curiosity taking over his common sense.</p><p>“Because my magic’s gone haywire after the Battle and it could be dangerous. At least that’s what McGonagall thinks.”</p><p>“What do you mean by that, Potter? Am I sharing a room and a Potions lab with a ticking time bomb?” Draco asked, horrified.</p><p>“How do you even know what a ticking time bomb is?” Potter asked, eyeing him curiously.</p><p>“Never you mind,” he waved his hand at him. Potter didn’t need to know about his extensive summer’s reading to catch up on Muggle Studies. He even had to order books via owl, using the money he had hidden away for emergencies. That was a subject he was not too enthusiastic to take, but Malfoys don’t fail their N.E.W.T.s, not even Muggle Studies.</p><p>“After the Battle…” whispered Potter, scratching the back of his head and ruffling his unruly curls, making them even messier, “my magic’s not the same. It’s been doing things out of the blue…”</p><p>“What the fuck, Potter?! Are you going to murder me in your sleep?”</p><p>“No, you idiot!” he replied, grabbing a knife and stabbing at a bat’s eye, making it explode and splatter his robes. “Shit.”</p><p>Suddenly they were clean again, without Potter uttering a spell or moving his wand. Draco opened his eyes wide and gaped.</p><p>“You see? It’s little things like this,” Potter whispered, moving closer to him, “nothing to worry about. Nobody’s supposed to know, though. So keep it to yourself.”</p><p>“That’s a shame, I was planning on telling all my friends over dinner!” Draco said sarcastically, grabbing his wand to clear the mess Potter had made on their working station. “Are they even trying to figure out what’s wrong with you?”</p><p>“The Unspeakables are working on it. And St Mungo’s. But they don’t seem to have a clue,” he said, shrugging, “they only know it’s linked to what happened in the Forest.”</p><p>“That’s reassuring,” Draco commented sarcastically, “what the fuck happened in the Forest?”</p><p>“Can’t tell,” Potter muttered gloomily, staring at Draco’s wand. It still felt odd to have it back after it had been used by Potter. Like having your own clothes taken and worn by someone else without permission and then returned without even being washed. He held it tight and Potter’s eyes shifted to the ingredients in front of him.</p><p>“What do you want me to do?” he asked after a while.</p><p>“Chop those pigeon livers. Finely or I will turn your underwear pink in your sleep,” Draco said.</p><p>“There’s nothing wrong with pink underwear, Malfoy.”</p><p>They chatted for the rest of the lesson and Draco was surprised by the end that they hadn’t even attempted to kill each other.</p><p>The first day went by fairly smoothly, with double Arithmancy and then Muggle Studies. He skipped lunch to go to the library and then had Herbology in the afternoon and Potter was there again, pairing up with Longbottom and casting glances in Draco’s direction.</p><p>“Are you planning on skipping dinner?” he asked on their way back to their room.</p><p>“Why do you even care?” Draco asked, trying to walk faster.</p><p>“I can sneak into the kitchens again, but we can’t do it for long. McGonagall will find out and give us detention. Maybe we should cook.”</p><p>“I don’t know any cooking spells, Potter. I’m not a House-elf.”</p><p>“But I can cook. The Muggle way, I mean.”</p><p>Draco shook his head and reached for his bag, looking for the keys to their quarters, only to find the door opening in front of him. He turned and Potter blushed.</p><p>“I swear that if you hex me by accident with that crazy magic of yours, I will turn your cloak bright yellow.”</p><p>“What’s with you and colour-changing spells?” Potter asked and then he froze when he noticed Draco staring at something that wasn’t there in the morning. There was a huge white wardrobe in their kitchen, all sleek and shiny, made of what appeared to be metal.</p><p>“What in Salazar’s name is that?”</p><p>“A fridge,” Potter replied, opening the door and staring at the impressive quantity and variety of food inside.</p><p>Draco studied it, peeking behind Potter’s shoulders with curiosity and then sticking his hand inside when the Gryffindor stepped aside with an amused expression on his face.</p><p>“It’s cold,” he commented and then he opened every single compartment and clicked repeatedly on the little button that made the light turn on and off, “fascinating.”</p><p>“If you’re done with your exploration of Muggle appliances,” Potter said, “I can start cooking dinner.”</p><p>Draco raised an eyebrow at him.</p><p>“What? I can cook, I told you.”</p><p>“I just struggle to believe that anything you produce could possibly be edible.”</p><p>Potter flipped him two fingers, clearly deciding to ignore him and got the ingredients out of the fridge, fishing out a chopping board from the cabinet and a knife from the cutlery drawer.</p><p>“Chop some onions for me, will you?” he said, “you’re better than me at that, anyway.”</p><p>“Your potion making skills are abysmal, Potter,” Draco said, shaking his head and grabbing the onion that was thrown at him. “What are you making anyway?”</p><p>“Curry,” Potter replied, “I’m making potatoes and spinach and then chickpea curry. Does that sound okay to you? I can’t do any of the posh stuff that you normally eat.”</p><p>“I’ve never had curry before,” Draco admitted through onion induced tears, sniffling loudly, “we shall see if I like it or not.”</p><p>He helped Potter prepare the rest of the ingredients and then sat at the kitchen table, admiring his confidence with pots and pans. When Potter caught him staring and smirked at him, Draco blushed and got his books out of his bag and settled down to write the Arithmancy essay that was due in only two days.</p><p>“You like studying,” Potter commented after a while and Draco raised his eyes to find him staring, his arms crossed in front of his chest and a small smile on his lips.</p><p>“It’s not a crime,” he replied haughtily.</p><p>“No, I suppose it’s not,” muttered Potter, “dinner’s ready, by the way.”</p><p>And bloody hell, it was glorious. Draco was starving and stuffed his face, piling up his plate with seconds. Potter was barely hiding his surprise and looked at him with a smug expression on his face.</p><p>“Where have you learnt how to cook?” he asked, helping himself to more rice.</p><p>“Don’t want to talk about it,” was Potter’s bitter reply, a grimace on his face.</p><p>“Well, you’re clearly better at cooking than you are at Potions.”</p><p>Potter studied him for a few minutes and then pointed his index finger at him.</p><p>“We could reach a deal,” he said, “I can cook for you and you can help me pass Potions and my other subjects. We share most of them anyway. McGonagall said that she will let me take the DADA exam if I do well in my other N.E.W.T.s.”</p><p>Draco narrowed his eyes and just studied him for a bit, wondering if this was the worst idea ever. But he needed food and neither of them could face entering the Great Hall. Plus, Potter seemed really good at cooking.</p><p>“Fine,” he conceded, “but I’m not writing your essays. I’m just going to help you with them.”</p><p>“Deal,” Potter beamed, offering his hand. The memory of their very first day at Hogwarts slapped Draco in the face with the force of a train. He remembered his own pale hand stretched out, Potter refusing to take it.</p><p>Things between them had changed. The world had changed. It was like a brand-new reality that Draco struggled to navigate every day.</p><p>But he didn’t want to be a coward anymore.</p><p>So, he decided to just jump. He held his hand out and took Potter’s, shaking it for longer than necessary, letting his thumb slide along his warm skin and then finally letting go.</p><p>“Deal,” he said.</p><p>He felt weird afterwards, his cheeks colouring under Potter’s gaze as they cleaned the kitchen with magic. His stomach was full and he couldn’t simply lie down on his bed with the curtains closed as he had planned to do. So, he sat on the sofa instead, a library book in his hands, his feet tucked under his bottom.</p><p>Potter went into the bedroom and then came back with a Quidditch magazine, taking a seat at the other end of the sofa. It was big enough for at least three people, but he lied against the armrest, stretching his legs until his feet were nearly touching Draco, making him confused and unsettled by the sudden intimacy between them.</p><p>He wanted to ask Potter what had changed. How come he didn’t want him dead or in Azkaban like everyone else. Why in Merlin’s name he was being so nice to him.</p><p>But instead he just sat there, reading the same paragraph a million times, until it was time to go to sleep and he shut the curtains around his bed like the night before, only to find them open in the morning again. He wondered if it was Potter’s bonkers magic playing tricks on him, staring at his ungraceful sleeping form and peaceful face. Merlin, he was beautiful. Draco wanted to trace the scar on his forehead with his fingertips, count his dark eyelashes, slide his fingers through his unruly curls.</p><p> </p><p>They settled into an unlikely easy routine. Draco would wake up early and go to the library to study in peace and gather the books he needed, while it was still empty. Then he returned to their lodgings to have breakfast with Potter and they would go to lessons. They normally had sandwiches for lunch (Draco had no idea where Potter went to eat, while he hid in a dark corner of the school, hoping that nobody would come by). They worked together in potions, bickering and arguing as usual, but there was no bite to their insults. Sometimes it made him think they were like an old couple.</p><p>In the afternoon Potter sometimes would go to the library with Longbottom or Lovegood, other times he studied with Draco in their room, asking for his help when he was struggling. He wasn’t actually that bad, now that his main focus in life was not avoiding getting murdered by a maniac. They always had dinner together, Draco helping with the preparation of the ingredients, Potter cooking in silence while Draco studied some more.</p><p>And after dinner they sat on the white sofa, reading in silence. Potter’s feet were always freezing and Draco’s bottom was warm, so he started sliding them under him, to warm up. And Draco somehow let him, missing the comfort of another human being’s touch. Missing Pansy’s fingers sliding through his hair while she chatted about unimportant things in the Slytherin common room. Missing his mother’s gentle hands and affectionate hugs, Goyle’s strong arms around his shoulders, Blaise’s hands and lips on him when they both felt horny. He hadn’t been touched in so long that even that simple contact of Potter’s cold feet under his bum felt like heaven.  </p><p>Draco would shower in the evening and Potter in the morning. On Thursday afternoons, Potter would have his weekly appointments with a Mind Healer. They always left him unsettled and grumpy, sometimes visibly upset, his magic playing up, in sync with his feelings.</p><p>The days went by, surprisingly uneventfully.</p><p>And then something happened.</p><p>Draco couldn’t put his hands on when it happened, but he was sure he wasn’t going crazy.</p><p>The sofa was shrinking.</p><p>He didn’t know if it was because of Potter’s magic or if it was the room itself, adjusting to their feelings and needs as McGonagall had said it would, but the sofa became smaller and smaller, day by day.</p><p>Potter didn’t seem to mind or to care, but Draco wondered if it was because he had wanted Potter to be closer. Or maybe the other way around. Or if they both needed that small human contact, because they were lonelier than they had ever felt in their whole lives.</p><p>And then Potter had to ruin everything one evening, by grabbing a soft cushion (they had appeared out of nowhere a couple of weeks before) and putting it in Draco’s lap, without asking for permission first.</p><p>“What do you think you’re doing?” Draco asked, cocking an eyebrow at him when he noticed the other boy grabbing a book and sitting down on the sofa, only to lie down with his head in Draco’s lap with a contented sigh.</p><p>“Reading,” was the simple reply he received.</p><p>He held his breath for a good minute. He counted up to ten. Then he swore under his breath as he felt his cheeks catching fire.</p><p>“Chill, Malfoy,” Potter said, “and try not to get a boner.”</p><p>“I can’t even…what the fuck…” Draco muttered, outraged, “what are you reading, anyway?”</p><p>“<em>Hogwarts: A History</em>,” Potter replied, “I’ve realised that without Hermione nagging me to read it, I’m actually finding it quite interesting.”</p><p>And Draco wasn’t able to concentrate on his book anymore, distracted by Potter’s head in his lap, by his soft curls so close to his fingers, by the smell of his shampoo (apples and cinnamon).</p><p>He took a longer shower than usual that evening, sliding his hard cock into his fist until he came with a soft moan against the blue tiles of the bathroom, a name caught between his teeth, unable to escape his mouth.</p><p>And the following evening Potter had done the same, as if it had already become a habit, as if they were friends and hadn’t tried to kill each other multiple times in the past.</p><p>“What are you reading this time?” Draco asked.</p><p>“The Potions book you told me to finish by tomorrow,” he replied, sounding annoyed and Draco smirked, concentrating on his own book, relaxing into the gentle weight of Potter’s head on his thighs.</p><p>And after a few evenings, he found himself sliding his fingers into those soft messy curls, with a sigh, as if they were finally where they belonged, noticing the way Potter closed his eyes and held his breath for a few seconds, before returning to his book.</p><p>This was wrong.</p><p>Potter was a million miles above him. He was the Saviour of the Wizarding World. He had risked his life on so many occasions to save them all from the Dark Lord. He had lost his parents, his friends, his godfather.</p><p>And Draco was a war criminal. He had spent his life trying to make Potter’s a misery and he didn’t deserve his forgiveness, nor his kindness.</p><p>He had lost his soulmate; he should be grieving for him instead.</p><p>He kept on wearing black at the weekends, while Potter eyed him curiously, on his way to Hogsmeade to meet up with Weasley (always “Ron”, never “Ginny”, he couldn’t help but notice). And he tried his best not to get too used to Potter’s touch, to the way his fingers lingered on Draco’s when he was passing him something or to the way he looked when he was asleep, both of their curtains always open in the morning, in spite of Draco’s attempts to close them before going to sleep.</p><p>September rolled into October and Draco found himself wondering when Potter had become “Harry” in his head. When the scrawny little git had become a taciturn young man, his green eyes darker than they were before the war. He thought about all those months without seeing him, after spending six years constantly looking at him, studying his every move and learning to decipher every single expression on Potter’s face. After months spent wondering where he was, if he was going to save them all from the abomination that had occupied his house and terrified him, he had finally caught a glimpse of Potter’s disfigured face at the Manor and he had recognised him immediately (how could he not have?). And then in the final battle, Potter was a wreck, all skin and bones, long hair and a stubble, a manic look on his face when he finally defeated the Dark Lord.</p><p>It was after the War, at the Trials, that Draco had realised that Potter was no longer a scared little boy. He had become a man. And a fine one at that. He was still shorter than him and had dark circles under his eyes, but he had become quiet, withdrawn, and so breath-takingly beautiful. Not quite a shadow of his former self, because Draco could feel the sheer power, the grief and magic that were barely kept at bay. Day after day, he spent time with Potter, wondering when he had started wanting him. Was it at the Trial, when he testified in his favour? Or maybe when he had given Draco his wand back? Or perhaps when he had offered to share a room with him? Or was it much earlier, years before, when he was still a confused bundle of nerves driven by hormones, obsessed with Harry bloody Potter?</p><p>He felt guilty and wrong for wanting Potter. Because he didn’t deserve him and there was no way anything could ever happen between them. And besides, Draco had a soulmate to mourn. </p><p>But the days and weeks went by and Draco got to know Potter a little better, observed how he always trimmed his nails too short, how he still wore shabby clothes, because he didn’t even think about buying himself new ones, as if he didn’t deserve them. How he played with the food on his plate and sometimes barely ate anything. Draco watched him mope and sigh, missing his friends like a lost limb, snuggling closer to Draco on their shrinking sofa, grabbing his fingers to put them in his hair when Draco hesitated. And he always gave Potter what he wanted, because who was he to deny him a little pleasure, when the Gryffindor had sacrificed so much for them all? Or at least that’s what he told himself, to shut that persistent voice in his head that insisted that he wanted him like he’d never wanted anyone before.   </p><p>They both had nightmares, that left them screaming and panting into the night. Draco kept his wand at hand, sleepily casting relaxing and cheering charms on Potter when that happened. And sometimes they just lied in bed, unable to fall asleep, staring into the darkness.</p><p>“What did you want to do after Hogwarts?” Potter asked one of these nights, and Draco had opened his curtains to peek at him.</p><p>“There’s not much that I can do,” he replied with a sigh, “I will have to find a place to live to finish my sentence. I suppose they will have sold the Manor by then. I will try to find a job.”</p><p>“I didn’t ask what you’re going to do. I asked what you <em>wanted</em> to do. Before the War.”</p><p>“Don’t want to talk about it,” he replied, mimicking Potter’s reply every time he asked him something unpleasant. Like “are you not meeting up with the Weaslette?” or “do you still want to become an Auror?”.</p><p>Potter turned to his side, his eyes locking with Draco’s in the dim light cast by the nearly full moon outside.</p><p>“I don’t know what I want to do anymore,” Potter whispered, “nothing really matters anymore, does it? I just feel so fucking numb sometimes.”</p><p>Draco didn’t know what to reply, especially because he felt exactly the same way.</p><p>“You can do whatever you want,” he said, instead.</p><p>“That’s the problem,” Potter’s eyes shone in the dark, like an animal waiting to pounce, “I don’t want to do anything. I just feel so tired of it all. And everyone expects me to become an Auror or do something grand with my life. And I just want to…I don’t know…”</p><p>“Fuck them all,” Draco said, his eyes lingering far too long on Potter’s quivering lips and furrowed brows, whishing that he could stretch his arm out to smooth them with his fingers. “You deserve to do whatever you want. Become a hermit and go live in the woods. Buy a boat and sail around the world. Stay at home and do nothing all day. Whatever the fuck you want.”</p><p>And Potter smiled in such a way that Draco felt his heart shattering into a million pieces. Because what the fuck was wrong with the world, if the man who had saved them all was broken and no one was doing anything to fix him?</p><p>So, he did his best. Helping him with his homework, keeping him company in the evenings, teasing him to make him laugh, giving in to their evening cuddles, letting his fingers card through Potter’s dark curls, making them even messier. Secretly loving every bloody second of it all.</p><p>He became complacent.</p><p>He became stupid and careless.</p><p>And one day he let his defences down and playfully pinched Potter’s arm in Potions, calling him “the most useless twat in the history of Potions making”, just as the rest of the class was growing quiet and then stared at him, looks of horror and outrage painted on their faces, as Potter obliviously pulled his middle finger up at him. It was a Friday afternoon and the morning after Potter left for Hogsmeade, to meet up with Weasley, so Draco stupidly went to the library, thinking that it was going to be empty on such an unusually sunny day. It was the end of October and the days were growing chilly. He hadn’t noticed the group of students observing him, too busy studying his notes and comparing them to the huge tomes he had retrieved from a dark corner of the library (not the Forbidden Section, he wasn’t allowed there).</p><p>And then he had left for lunch, climbing up the stairs of the Astronomy Tower, until the first jinx hit him. And then one sent his wand flying in the air, another one bound him and blindfolded him, while the rest of them wreaked havoc on his body. By the time they were done with him, spitting on his face as a farewell gift, he was barely capable of holding back the tears from the pain in his arms and his hand. The body-binding curse lasted for ages and he waited and waited for it to wear down and finally be able to move, hoping that no one would come by and make his situation even worse.</p><p>When he was finally able to stand up, his legs felt like jelly as he took a few steps and then nearly fell over. He knelt down to retrieve his wand, hissing in pain as his broken fingers clutched around the familiar wood. It took him ages to go back to his room, as he limped, holding onto the wall, biting on his broken lips.</p><p>He fumbled for his key, struggling to insert it into the lock, then stumbled inside, dropping his bag on the floor and heading for his bedroom, sitting on the bed, carefully cradling his broken left wrist into his hand. His nose was dripping blood onto his lap and he could feel his face pulsing, swollen and sore. His arm was probably broken too and a few of his fingers. His right hand hurt like mad, but he still managed to get his wand. He was shit at healing spells, hadn’t had enough practice, but he tried and failed several times to treat his wounds and then gave up.</p><p>His head hit the headboard and he whimpered. He remembered that time Father had decided to punish him harshly, because he was a disappointment and hadn’t managed to kill Dumbledore. He had hidden in his room, in pain and with a broken heart, casting his soulmate spell to look at the green thread and marvel at the only decent thing in his life. He remembered the war and how scared he was when the Dark Lord was in his house, about all the times he had huddled in the darkness, the only light the shimmering thread stretching from his finger and fading into the distance.</p><p>He used the little strength he had left to cast the spell one more time.</p><p>“<em>Vinculum</em>,” he whispered and tears welled up in his eyes at the thread lying limp and severed from his little finger, a whine escaping his lips.</p><p>Then the door opened and Potter stared at him, a horrified expression on his face.</p><p>“Shit, what happened?” he ran to him. He sat down on the bed next to him, his wand out, casting a gentle cleaning spell on his face, his fingers tilting his chin up to assess the damage.</p><p>“I fell over,” he replied, his voice breaking as tears ran down his cheeks.</p><p>“What the actual fuck, Malfoy! You fell over and then a troll stepped on you?!” shouted Potter, “who did this to you?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” he said, avoiding Potter’s eyes.</p><p>“Draco, who the fuck did this to you?” the fury in his eyes and the fact that he had used his name for the first time made him freeze, a sob escaping his lips.</p><p>“I don’t actually know. I had my back to them.”</p><p>Potter’s magic sizzled, the air crackling with it, and Draco felt afraid of him, for the first time since they had started living together, but then Potter grabbed his shoulders and took a deep breath, trying to calm down.</p><p>“Come on, let’s go to the Hospital Wing,” he said, but Draco shook his head.</p><p>“No, I’m not going there.”</p><p>“Draco, I’m shit at healing spells and your right hand is so swollen that I doubt you can cast anything more than a <em>Lumos</em> with it. You need potions and Madam Pomfrey’s help.”</p><p>He shook his head again, avoiding Potter’s eyes.</p><p>“I can’t,” he said, “I…Last year…”</p><p>Potter grabbed his chin again, this time less gently, to look at him straight in the eyes. And he probably saw something there, read Draco’s guilt on his face.</p><p>“Draco, I don’t care what happened last year. I don’t care how many people you sent to the Hospital Wing. You need help now.”</p><p>“You don’t get it!” he shouted.</p><p>“It’s her job! She will never refuse to treat you,” insisted Potter, an angry glint in his eyes.</p><p>“I don’t want her to feel like she has to do it!” he shouted back. And then whispered, after a few seconds, “I don’t deserve her help.”</p><p>They were both quiet for a few minutes, Potter’s nostrils flaring, his magic slowly getting out of control, making the lights flicker, the windows rattle and the curtains move.</p><p>“You sent letters of apology to everyone,” he said, his tone deceivingly calm, “you even sent one to Mrs Weasley. She showed me.”</p><p>Draco looked down, ashamed.</p><p>“The only person who ever replied was Granger,” he confessed, mortified by the fact that Potter’s best friend was the only one who had granted him forgiveness. He hadn’t sent Potter a letter. He could never find the courage to, in spite of writing a million drafts that all ended up in the fire.</p><p>“Draco, let’s go,” he pleaded.</p><p>“No,” he insisted and Potter groaned and then he stood up and stared at him, an unreadable expression on his beautiful face.</p><p>“You stubborn twat,” he said and then turned and left.</p><p>And Draco felt like falling apart all over again. He felt dirty and wrong. Irretrievably broken, inside and outside.</p><p>He stood up, vanished his clothes with a painful twist of his wand, and then remained still, contemplating the damage. He had a gash along his right leg and his left knee was badly bruised.</p><p>He headed for the bathroom, hoping that the warm water of the shower could offer some relief. But it burnt and hurt on his open wounds and bruises and Draco found himself crying like a baby, sobbing as he leaned into the tiles, wishing his mother was there with him, missing her like mad.</p><p>He got out of the shower and grabbed his bathrobe, trying to put it on and struggling with his injured hands. He went for his wand, to cast a drying spell in spite of the pain, but then the door opened and Potter just stood there, his mouth agape as he stared at Draco’s naked body, his eyes roaming down, cheeks turning pink. Draco felt Potter’s magic on his skin, drying him and leaving him with a warm feeling, wondering if he had done it on purpose or not.</p><p>And then Potter’s eyes fell on his Mark, the dark splotch of ink on his left arm that was a daily reminder of his bad decisions and worst mistakes. Draco felt his gaze burning a hole through him and closed his eyes for a few seconds.</p><p>“If you’re done staring at my cock and my Mark, can you help me put this on?” he finally said, feeling his cheeks warming up. Potter blinked a few times and then grabbed the black bathrobe and helped him pull it up his sleeves, doing his best not to hurt him as he tied the belt around his waist.</p><p>They sat on Draco’s bed and Potter handed him a few vials.</p><p>“For the pain,” he said, “and take them without complaining, because otherwise I will shove them down your throat myself.”</p><p>Draco complied, too tired and sore to fight. Potter took a deep breath and held out his hand, motioning for Draco’s wrist.</p><p>“I hope I don’t fuck up,” he said, frowning, “<em>Episkey</em>.”</p><p>It kind of worked and then it didn’t, because it still hurt like hell. Draco winced in pain, thinking that the potions were not strong enough for this, and Potter cast the spell again and again, until he mended all of his broken bones, one by one.</p><p>“Thank you,” he said, resting his back on a pillow, his eyes closed.</p><p>“We’re not done, I have an ointment for your open wounds.”</p><p>Draco held his hand out, but Potter brushed his fingers away, staring at him with a serious expression as he applied the ointment to his eyebrows and then his nose, moving down to his broken lip. It tasted minty and slightly peppery. He couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling of Potter’s careful fingertips touching his skin, so gentle and soft. He hadn’t been touched in so long and he felt guilty for enjoying it so much.</p><p>“You should still go to the Hospital Wing,” Potter said, moving onto his leg and making Draco groan when he started spreading the ointment on his open wound. “You’ll have awful bruising tomorrow and it will hurt like hell without the potions.”</p><p>“I’ll be fine. I can brew some pain relief potions tomorrow morning.”</p><p>He opened his eyes and found Potter’s on him, studying him in the dim light of the late afternoon.</p><p>“Wait, you have a cut on your ear,” Potter said, tilting his head and tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind Draco’s ear.</p><p>And Draco closed his eyes, thought how wonderful it would be to have Potter’s hands on him all the time, whenever he felt the need for some human touch, for some love. And he felt the tears going down his cheeks, in spite of his efforts to keep them at bay.</p><p>“Am I hurting you?” Potter asked with a worried tone. Draco shook his head.</p><p>“I was just contemplating the disaster that is my life,” he said, his voice cracking.</p><p>“Come on, Draco…”</p><p>He shook his head and looked away, feeling Potter’s burning gaze on him.</p><p>“I have no home. I can’t see my parents. I can’t become a curse breaker like I’ve always wanted to and I can’t even leave the country. All my plans have gone to shit and there’s nothing I can do about it. And…” he hesitated, wondering if it was the right thing to do, if he could say it out loud for the first time, “my soulmate’s dead.”</p><p>“What?” Potter asked softly, his voice surprised.</p><p>“My soul bond is broken.”</p><p>Potter’s fingers gently brushed against his cheek, warm and comforting beyond words.</p><p>“Is that why you’ve been wearing black?” he asked and Draco nodded.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Draco…”</p><p>Draco wiped away his tears with the sleeves of his bathrobe, feeling ashamed, and then they just sat there in silence for a few minutes, their eyes locked. And then Draco felt it, a gentle breeze, as Potter’s gaze wandered down his neck, to his chest, like a soft invisible touch casting aside the fabric of his bathrobe, opening it slowly. He looked down, seeing the belt around his waist loosening, the hems parting, baring his chest. Potter swallowed loudly, his Adam’s apple bobbing on his neck.  </p><p>Was he doing it on purpose?</p><p>Potter’s eyes travelled down his chest, then he licked his lips and his gaze locked with Draco’s for a few seconds.</p><p>“Can I…?” he asked, his hand moving towards his neck, just a couple of inches away, and Draco found himself nodding.    </p><p>Potter’s warm fingers stroked his neck and then slowly slid down, opening the bathrobe even more, drawing patterns on his pale skin, making Draco’s breath catch in his throat.</p><p>“Your skin is so soft and so pale. You look like one of those marble statues. You have no scars left…” Potter whispered, “I’ve always wondered.”</p><p>“Snape did a good job,” he replied, remembering the pain and the distinctive smell of dittany.</p><p>“I never apologised…” Potter started, but Draco shook his head.</p><p>“What for? I deserved it.”</p><p>“You were just sixteen,” Potter said, his tone serious, as his fingers trembled over Draco’s skin, going lower, tracing his ribs and moving down, so slowly. “We were kids.”</p><p>“I’ve forgiven you a long time ago,” Draco whispered, his eyes meeting Potter’s.</p><p>“You need to start forgiving yourself too,” Potter replied and then moved closer, his lips barely an inch away from his. And Draco wondered if he was imagining all this, if he was going to wake up and find out that it was all a weird dream.</p><p>“I…” he didn’t even know what he was going to say. All he wanted was to have Potter closer, to feel his warm body against his.</p><p>But then Potter broke that small distance and brought their lips together, with a small sigh.</p><p>It was a chaste kiss, just lips brushing against lips, as Potter’s palm opened on his chest, his thumb flicking at his nipple, making Draco gasp. He could smell the other boy’s shampoo, apples and cinnamon, and he could feel his dark curls tickling his forehead. Potter let out a soft moan and then tilted his head, his left hand moving lower, opening Draco’s robe even more and sliding down his chest. His hand nestled around his waist, so warm and solid, and it felt like the most intimate contact Draco had ever had.</p><p>He sighed and Potter deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding inside Draco’s mouth, tasting and exploring, making him moan and whimper when his right hand cupped Draco’s cheek, fingers carding through his blonde hair, tugging possessively.</p><p>Kissing Harry Potter was a bit like fighting with him, intense and all consuming, like a fire burning brighter and warmer. It felt like a series of sparks setting his skin alight, making him moan and clutch at Potter’s robes, all control lost. He wondered if it was Potter’s magic that was making him feel like that.</p><p>They parted for air and silver eyes locked with green.</p><p>“Harry…” he whispered and Potter faltered, moving away, covering his mouth with his hand.</p><p>“I-I…” he stuttered, “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to…”</p><p>And Draco blushed, confused and ashamed.</p><p>“It’s okay,” he said and then Potter stood up and groaned, and Draco couldn’t help but notice the evident bulge at the front of his trousers.</p><p>“I need to take a shower and you need to rest,” he said, his cheeks darkening, his hands tugging at his messy locks. And then he left, opening the bathroom door and closing it behind him. Draco heard the shower run and then all noises ceased. A silencing spell.</p><p>He lied down on his bed, shutting the curtains, wondering if Potter was touching himself, if he was as hard as Draco was, his sore fingers opening the bathrobe and curling around his own length, remembering Potter’s hands on him, his soft lips and the needy little sounds he was making while he was kissing him with such abandon. His orgasm surprised him, longer and stronger than he had expected, shocking him to the core and making him shudder and whimper softly.</p><p>Potter came back after a while and prepared for the night in silence, in spite of the fact that it was not even 7 pm. Draco lay in bed for ages, wondering if the other boy was asleep, until his curtains opened and he found Potter’s eyes staring back at him, in the darkness.</p><p>He suddenly felt naked under that gaze, like a prey for Potter to take.</p><p>And Draco really wanted to be taken.</p><p>“Night, Draco,” Potter whispered.</p><p>“Good night, Harry.”</p><p>He left the curtains open, lying awake for minutes that stretched into hours, wondering what that kiss had meant.</p><p>Wondering who on earth was Harry Potter’s soulmate.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A big thank you to all the people who have left comments and kudos. 💙<br/>A huge thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_tea_blue_pens"> black_tea_blue_pens</a> for her help with this fic.<br/>Additional thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire/pseuds/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire"> Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire </a> and Ava for their support.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He barely slept that night, the pain from his wounds and the thought that he had kissed Harry keeping him awake for hours. He wondered whether the Gryffindor had done it out of pity. Curiosity, perhaps. Maybe loneliness.</p><p>He could tell that Harry missed Weasley and Granger like mad. He was always waiting for the owls coming from them; he had a smile on his lips every time he headed off to Hogsmeade to see his best friend. But sometimes Draco caught him staring into the distance, sighing, looking lost and lonely. </p><p>Draco missed his friends and his family too, and sometimes it felt like their longing and loneliness converged, making them seek each other’s company, creating this unusual and unexpected friendship that not in a million years he would have thought he could have with Harry Potter.</p><p>He liked it. Salazar, he absolutely loved it. He enjoyed every single minute spent with the Gryffindor, from the incessant teasing to the comfortable silence in the evening, his fingers lost in dark curls as he peacefully read his books on their comfy sofa.</p><p>Sunday morning was rainy and grey, the room so warm that Draco didn’t even wear a jumper when he finally gave up on sleep and got out of bed. He cast a glance at Harry’s bed, stopping for a good minute to watch him sleep peacefully, his body sprawled across the bed. He had surprisingly elegant ankles and feet, Draco noticed, wishing that he could trace the curve of his bones with his fingers.</p><p>He took a quick shower, wincing at the way the water burnt on his healing cuts and bruises, and then he looked at himself in the mirror and grimaced. His lip was purple and swollen and he was sporting a black eye. He couldn’t remember ever looking so ugly and miserable.</p><p>Such a mess, he thought.</p><p>He got dressed in the bathroom, wearing a pair of black woolly trousers, a long-sleeved top and a soft black jumper that covered the bruises on his neck. His only Muggle clothing. They felt comfortable and yet foreign. After last night, he felt different, as if his usual clothes simply wouldn’t do. He needed a change.</p><p>He headed for the library, choosing a spot in a dark corner. In spite of the fact that it was completely empty, he cast a protecting spell, just to be on the safe side. He wondered if maybe he should skip breakfast, avoid Harry for the whole day and then slip back into bed in the dead of night. He was wondering if he could go one whole day without food in his current state, when he noticed the light flickering in a funny way in front of him. A faint rustling sound, like fabric brushing against the wooden chair, an odd shadow on the table.</p><p>“Are you stalking me now?” he asked, his voice low, hoping not to be imagining things. But Potter’s head appeared as he removed his cloak and then the rest of his lovely body, a faint blush on his cheeks.</p><p>“I was afraid whoever attacked you yesterday might want to finish off the job,” he muttered.</p><p>“And kill me at Hogwarts?” Draco laughed, incredulous, “I don’t need a bodyguard, Potter.”</p><p>“You called me Harry yesterday,” he whispered, making Draco’s cheeks colour. They just sat there, looking embarrassed and at a loss for words, when Harry finally broke the silence.</p><p>“I’m starving, Draco. Let’s go make some breakfast,” he said, standing up and leaving, not even waiting to check if Draco would follow. </p><p>Bloody Harry Potter and his cockiness.</p><p>He walked behind him, back to their rooms, wondering what was going to happen, if they were ever going to kiss again or if it had just been a one off. Harry opened the door and started getting the eggs and bacon for breakfast, fishing a couple of sausages, mushrooms and tomatoes from the fridge.</p><p>“Full English?” Draco asked, cocking an eyebrow.</p><p>“We skipped dinner yesterday evening and you need sustenance. I got some potions for the pain and more ointment from Madam Pomfrey.”</p><p>Draco groaned and sat down, getting a book out of his bag, trying to find a distraction, something to keep his mind and his fingers busy. Trying not to think about Harry and his soft lips and the little sounds he had made the day before, when he was so warm, with his hand nestled around Draco’s waist.</p><p>“Plans for today?” Harry asked, stirring the pan and looking at him.</p><p>“Studying,” he replied, “I have a meeting with my Muggle Studies professor in two hours to go over the modules I missed last year. What about you?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Harry said, scratching his nose, “I thought we could…err…spend some time together.”</p><p>“Do you need help with homework? Our Potions essay is due on Tuesday; I can check it for you,” Draco said, pretending not to notice the disappointed expression on the other boy’s face.</p><p>“Sure,” he muttered, plating up the food and handing Draco his portion.</p><p>“Thanks. Harry?” he finally found the courage to call him by his name and the Gryffindor smiled at him, like a happy puppy, making Draco’s heart melt, “why are you not spending the day with your girlfriend?”</p><p>Harry’s smile died on his lips as he sat down and started moving the food around the plate with his fork.</p><p>“You really don’t read the papers, do you?” he muttered, finally picking up a tomato and putting it in his mouth. Draco waited for him to continue, hoping against hope that he was going to say something he had been wishing for, probably for longer than he could remember.</p><p>“I told you I don’t,” he said.</p><p>“We broke up in July. The Prophet was full of pictures of us fighting and of Ginny crying. It was horrendous,” he said with a grimace, “things were not the same after the war and I…I did something bad…”</p><p>“Surely not, Saint Potter?” Draco teased him, “what could you possibly have done?”</p><p>“I kissed Charlie,” Harry said, staring at his plate, his mouth a thin line.</p><p>“Oh…” so Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, was not as straight as Draco had always assumed, “Charlie who?”</p><p>“Charlie…Weasley…”</p><p>“You kissed her brother?” Draco deadpanned, “the dragon tamer?”</p><p>“Yep,” Harry said, looking mortified and Draco didn’t really know what to say.</p><p>“At least you didn’t kiss Percy; he’s the ugly one of the lot.”</p><p>Harry groaned and hid his face in his hands.</p><p>“Is Charlie your boyfriend now?” Draco asked, wondering if he still had a chance and then calling himself stupid for even thinking about it. As if Harry Potter could be interested in Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater and childhood nemesis, turned utter mess with no future prospect.</p><p>“What? No! It was just a terrible mistake. I always wondered what it would feel like to kiss a bloke and…I don’t know…I stupidly ended up in a broom closet with Charlie and we both deeply regretted it afterwards.”</p><p>Harry resumed eating his breakfast and Draco did the same, wondering why he had kissed him the previous day. If it was just out of curiosity again. If it meant anything for the Gryffindor. </p><p>“I always assumed the Weaslette was your soulmate,” he said after a while.</p><p>“I think she did too, but I’ve never really cared about soulmates,” Harry said, finally looking at him.</p><p>“What do you mean? Have you two not checked?” Draco asked, sitting up straighter.</p><p>“Ginny wanted to, but I didn’t want to cast the spell. I never have.”</p><p>Draco stared at him, eyes open wide and mouth agape.</p><p>“Are you trying to tell me that you’ve never seen your soul bond?”</p><p>The other boy shook his head and drank some water.</p><p>“All my life has been determined by some stupid prophecy. I’ve had enough of that! I’m not having my feelings controlled by a thread. If I fall in love with someone, it won’t be because magic has told me to.”  </p><p>Draco supposed that it kind of made sense from Harry’s point of view, but still. How could he not want to know?</p><p>“You should have realised if she was your soulmate anyway. The bond would have appeared,” he muttered.</p><p>“How come?”</p><p>“Do you know nothing about soul bonds, Potter?” Draco asked with a sigh, reverting to calling him by his surname without meaning to. He drank some pumpkin juice and shook his head, “the simplest way to reveal them is to cast the <em>Vinculum</em> spell, but the thread usually appears if there’s a connection between two people. You should be able to tell that things feel different, more…intense. But the bond can appear when you kiss or when you have sex.”</p><p>Potter blushed and shook his head.</p><p>“Nothing appeared.”</p><p>“Sometimes it happens when people say ‘I love you’ to each other for the first time,” Draco said, studying him and Potter’s green eyes locked with his.</p><p>“We never did…I don’t think either of us…” he left it at that and Draco nodded. They sat in silence for a few minutes and then Draco stood up, wincing at the pain in his legs and his hands. He cleared the table and then he felt Harry’s hand on his wrist.</p><p>“Take your potion. You’re in pain,” he said, fishing a vial out of his pocket. Draco sighed and just took it, feeling immediately better afterwards. “Sit on the sofa. I’ll help with your other wounds.”</p><p>Draco wanted to tell him that he could do it by himself this time; all he needed was a mirror, really. But there was something in Harry’s gaze and in the way his fingers lingered on his wrist for longer than necessary, that made him nod and take a seat on their shrinking sofa.</p><p>Harry’s hands were warm and gentle as he tucked Draco’s hair behind his ear to put some ointment on his earlobe, his eyes so green from up close. Draco felt like he could drown in them. </p><p>“Your eye looks sore,” Harry said, gently massaging his nose, then moving down to his lips. “but the cut on your mouth is healing nicely.”</p><p>He parted his lips to let Harry’s finger reach his cut, sliding briefly inside his mouth, his thumb holding the bottom part of Draco’s lower lip. </p><p>“What does it taste like?” he whispered and Draco felt a shiver running down his spine, moving closer to Harry’s heat.</p><p>“Peppermint and dittany,” he said, his voice sounding different, frayed at the edges. Potter’s eyes were staring at his mouth, his lips parted.</p><p>“Can I taste it?” he asked, leaning closer, and Draco stared at him in a daze. He nodded, the smallest movement of his head, and then closed his eyes as the tip of Harry’s tongue brushed against his lower lip, tasting him, and then lightly sucking on it, making Draco’s heart beat madly in his chest. “Mhhh.”</p><p>He felt Harry’s fingers sliding through his hair, bringing him closer as their lips collided again, sparks of magic setting Draco’s skin alight. He sighed into Harry’s mouth, daring to put a hand on the other boy’s cheek, feeling the faint stubble and running his fingers on it. His own cheeks were smooth, nearly hairless. Harry broke the kiss to take off his glasses and then came back for more, deepening the kiss. He had one hand firmly in Draco’s hair and one circling his waist, like he had done the day before, bringing him closer, like the possessive lover that Draco suspected him to be.</p><p>“God, you’re so hot,” Harry whispered, pulling him impossibly close, until Draco was sitting in his lap, panting against his lips, Harry’s hands firmly positioned on his hips, “I could do this for the whole day.”</p><p>Draco felt the same, claiming Harry’s lips again and again, feeling him hardening against his own stiff cock. His brain was short-circuiting, unable to understand why Harry would want this, with him of all people. </p><p>“Take your jumper off,” Harry said, his voice hoarse, “I want to kiss your neck.”</p><p>“I need to go soon,” he replied, his fingers running along the Gryffindor’s jaw, dropping down, tracing the line of his clavicles through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. “I need to meet up with my Muggle Studies Professor.”</p><p>Harry groaned and grabbed his arse cheeks, pulling him closer, gasping as their hard cocks rubbed against each other.</p><p>“Stay,” he said, his voice deep, “you’re not feeling well. You were attacked yesterday and you need to rest. Your face looks a mess.”</p><p>“Well, aren’t you the kindest twat,” Draco replied, raising an eyebrow and pulling away, enjoying seeing Harry chasing after his lips, his fingers tugging at Draco’s fine hair.</p><p>“I’ll kiss it better,” Harry said, sliding his hand under Draco’s jumper, trying to get it off, “send her a Patronus. Stay here with me.”</p><p>“I can’t,” Draco admitted, his cheeks colouring, “I’ve never been able to cast one.”</p><p>Harry looked at him and traced his puffy lips with his thumb. They were red and wet from all the kisses they had shared.</p><p>“I’ll teach you how to cast one,” he said and then got his wand and sent his stag, telling the Professor that Draco was feeling unwell, “I’ll teach you everything you need to know about Muggle appliances too. Anything, as long as you stay here with me.”</p><p>Draco’s only answer was to card his fingers through Harry’s dark curls and bring their lips back together, relishing the perfect way they fit, the soft noises Harry was making, how hard they both were.</p><p>Time stretched and Draco lost track of it, pressed flush against Harry, his lips so warm and soft. And every now and then, the Gryffindor would say something that made Draco smile like an idiot, a storm of butterflies in his stomach.</p><p>“God, I love your hair. It’s so soft. I’ve spent years wondering what it would feel like to touch it,” he said, his fingers carding through Draco’s blonde hair, “I like it like this, longer and not slicked back.”</p><p>He eventually took Draco’s jumper off and started kissing his neck, muttering that Draco smelled so nice and that it was making him light-headed. And then he moved back to Draco’s lips, drunk on him.</p><p>“The way you kiss should be illegal,” Harry said, his eyes bright and cheeks flushed.</p><p>“That’s not the only thing I’m good at doing with my mouth,” whispered Draco, feeling Harry become even harder against him, staring back at him with a mad look in his eyes, grabbing his arse possessively. He wondered if Harry was jealous, felt his magic making the air sizzle and his skin warmer.</p><p>“I want to see you naked again,” Harry whispered, “you looked absolutely breath-taking.”</p><p>“I was covered in wounds,” Draco felt the need to point out, “do you have some weird fetish, Potter?”</p><p>He smiled that crooked smile of his that always made Draco weak in the knees and that made him feel like he was going to die under his gaze. The Gryffindor’s hands slid under his top and then went lower, moving towards the front as he looked for permission in Draco’s grey eyes.</p><p>“I’m good with my hands too,” Draco whispered, unbuttoning his own trousers and then moving to Harry’s jeans, feeling the rough fabric and the zip open under his trembling fingers. He felt Harry’s moan deep in his bones, the shudder that shook him as Draco’s fingers came in contact with his cock. They were both so hard that it was not going to take them long. And Draco couldn’t stop staring, at the stiff cock in his hand, so much darker and thicker than his own, precome glistening on its tip. He took them both into his hand and retrieved his wand from his back pocket to cast a lubricating spell, moaning at the delicious feeling of Harry’s cock sliding against his.</p><p>“Oh my god,” Harry moaned, “this feels…don’t stop. Fuck, Draco…”</p><p>He stroked them slowly, trying to delay their orgasm, enjoying the feeling of Harry’s hands all over him, mapping his body and setting his skin on fire. </p><p>“Draco…” he whimpered and then came with a soft gasp, painting Draco’s dick and his hand with hot white streaks, making Draco tip over the edge, with a little moan and closed eyes.</p><p>They sat there, panting, unsure what to do, until Harry brought their lips together again, gently. His magic cleaned them both, leaving Draco with a silly smile on his face and his heart beating like a mad tambourine in his chest.</p><p>“That was…” Harry whispered, “wow…”</p><p>“Eloquent as always,” Draco smirked and the Gryffindor kissed the corner of his lips, in such an intimate way that made Draco feel like he was going to pass out from sheer happiness and surprise. He never thought something like that could happen to him. Only bad things happened to him, really, so he had no idea how to deal with <em>this</em>. With Harry Potter wanting him and kissing him like it meant something to him. Like it was more than a curiosity shag. </p><p>“I’m tired,” Harry said with a yawn, “I barely slept last night.”</p><p>“Same,” Draco said and then found the courage to reach with his fingers, tracing Harry’s dark eyebrows, the curve of his nose and his scar, his soft lips, with the lightest brush of his fingertips. </p><p>“Shall we take a nap?” Harry suggested and Draco wanted to ask him to wait, to make this last a little longer, just a few minutes, but he nodded instead. He stood up, tucked himself back into decency and then opened his eyes wide when Harry grabbed his hand and led him to their bedroom. The Gryffindor took his jeans off and climbed into bed with him. He snuggled closer to Draco, burying his face into the crook of his neck, with a deep sigh.</p><p>“You feel so nice,” he mumbled, his arm slung around Draco’s waist, their legs in a tangle. And in spite of being absolutely exhausted, it still took Draco a while to finally doze off into a dreamless sleep, warm and safe in Harry’s embrace.</p><p>He woke up half naked, wearing only his underwear and Harry’s arm around him. He could feel the Gryffindor stirring, his bare chest pressed against Draco’s back, trailing soft kisses on his neck and rocking his hips against Draco’s arse.</p><p>“Where are my clothes, Harry?” he mumbled, turning to look at him in the dim late November light. He wondered what time it was; how long they had slept for, since the sun was already setting.</p><p>“Dunno,” he muttered, gently nipping at the sensitive skin below Draco’s ear, “I woke up like this too.”</p><p>“I swear that if your crazy magic injures me in my sleep, I am going to sue you and ask for a new roommate,” he said, feeling Harry’s hand slide under the elastic band of his boxers, tentative fingers wrapping around Draco’s hardening dick.</p><p>“Aahh…” he gasped, feeling Harry’s smile on his skin.</p><p>“Shh, stop whinging and let me help you relax.”</p><p>“I can assure you that I’m relaxed enough as it is,<em> aaah</em>…” he bit his lip as Potter’s thumb swiped over the head of his cock, spreading the precome that had gathered there, and then his fist moved down and up again, bringing the foreskin over the head with a twist of his wrist. Draco moaned and his underwear disappeared as felt Harry’s hard cock sliding between his arse cheeks.</p><p>“Fuck,” Harry groaned, “this feels amazing. You feel amazing. I never thought…” </p><p>Draco’s hand reached behind him, sliding over Harry’s hips, finally coming in contact with his cock and stroking it briefly, before putting it between his thighs.</p><p>“Pass me my wand,” he told the Gryffindor, “I’ll cast a lubricating spell. It’ll feel nicer.”</p><p>He hadn’t even finished the sentence, when he felt moisture between his thighs, Harry’s cock sliding deliciously against his skin, brushing against Draco’s balls and making him shudder.</p><p>“Fuck, Potter, at least give a bloke some notice,” he muttered and then couldn’t help but moan, because Harry’s hand was slick on his cock, pumping in time with the movements of his hips, making the most debauched sounds that Draco had ever heard.</p><p>“We’re never leaving this room, ever again,” Harry whispered, his lips locking on Draco’s skin, sucking a bruise on his pale neck, marking him as his. And Draco wanted this to last for longer, for his entire life, but he soon felt that it was too much, the pressure building in his belly, and he came with Harry’s name on his lips. He was soon followed by the Gryffindor, who held him tight and wouldn’t let go, not even afterwards, when they were both panting and shaken by ripples of dying pleasure.</p><p>And Draco had a million questions swimming in his head. Such as, why me? Why Draco, after all the hatred they had shared? After their horrible past and Draco’s endless list of mistakes. </p><p>He stared at Potter’s fingers gently drawing invisible patterns on his naked skin, sharing his warmth with Draco, skidding over his Dark Mark and not flinching.</p><p>
  <em>Why me, of all people?</em>
</p><p>“What shall we do now?” he asked, instead.</p><p>“Let’s stay like this a little longer,” Harry whispered against his skin, laying a soft kiss on his shoulder, “then we can study and make some dinner.”</p><p>And unbelievably enough, it was that easy. They cuddled, then took turns to take a shower and got dressed. Draco helped Harry with his homework and finished his Muggle Studies essay, with tips from the Gryffindor on how to improve it. Harry made dinner and they ate it. They sat on their shrinking sofa (and Draco started to think that it was eventually going to turn into an armchair) and when it was time to go to bed, Harry simply slid under Draco’s blankets with him and whispered a goodnight.</p><p>It felt like a dream. One he didn’t ever want to end.  </p><p>The following day he woke up full of questions and uncertainties, wondering if what had happened between them over the weekend was going to vanish as soon as they opened the door to their room. He didn’t go to the library and stayed in bed with Harry instead, sharing kisses and gentle touches, wishing to prolong the little bubble of happiness for as long as possible.</p><p>Harry looked serene, happy even, as they made their way to the Dungeons for double Potions. Draco was a bundle of nerves, his fingers trembling as he prepared the ingredients, casting furtive glances at their classmates, wondering if they could read on their faces what they had shared at the weekend. But nothing happened. The world seemed oblivious of the fact that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy had started something. He had no idea what, but it was definitely <em>something</em>.</p><p>Harry’s fingers closed around Draco’s under the desk for the briefest of moments. Draco’s cheeks coloured, allowing himself to look in Harry’s direction. Their eyes locked and he felt like his blood had caught fire, filling him with want and the sheer need to touch Harry more, to feel him against his body, skin to skin.</p><p>“Want you,” Harry whispered, so softly that Draco nearly didn’t catch it.</p><p>“Me too,” he dared to reply, his eyes glued to his simmering cauldron, stirring it once clockwise and then three times anticlockwise, feeling Harry’s gaze on him, burning holes through him.</p><p>And the lesson went on for ages, the minutes stretching endlessly. When it finally came to an end, they nearly ran out, looking for an empty classroom or a broom closet, settling for an alcove behind a suit of armour and crashing into each other. Harry’s lips locked with his, pushing him against the cold wall, their chests flush. Draco felt like he had died and gone to heaven, because he couldn’t believe that this was reality and not a dream.</p><p>Draco arrived late to his second lesson and the morning felt never-ending without Harry at his side. He counted the hours and then the minutes to lunch. He felt foolish and too warm, opening the front of his robes, as if his skin had been on fire. He ran back to their room for lunch, finding Harry already there, unable to reach the bed and dragging him onto the sofa instead, their lips meeting again and again.</p><p>“I want to suck you,” Draco whispered and Harry’s cock became impossibly harder in his hand, his cheeks turning the loveliest shade of pink. Harry nodded, unable to speak, and then sat up and spread his legs. Draco knelt on the floor, between his knees, staring at the hard dick in front of him, flicking his tongue out to tease the tip. Harry gasped and his fingers found Draco’s hair, carding through it with a contented sigh.</p><p>Draco took his time, making the Gryffindor fall apart, little by little, licking along his length and sucking on the head, his tongue swirling around it, teasing, before he finally swallowed him whole. Harry let out a loud gasp as Draco began bobbing his head slowly, up and down his dick, humming in appreciation. His fingers circled the base of Harry’s cock, pumping in sync with his mouth.</p><p>“Fuck, Draco…” he moaned, “how are you so good at this? I’m going to…”</p><p>Harry’s fingers tightened in his hair, his grip firm and yet not painful, trying to warn Draco that he was close and his mouth stopped, letting Harry’s cock slip out with a wet sound, a trail of saliva and precome glistening from Draco’s parted lips.</p><p>“You taste lovely,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, “I love this. I like making you feel good.”</p><p>Harry groaned and moved down, bringing their lips together, tasting himself on Draco’s tongue and moaning into their kiss. Draco’s fingers started moving again, sliding slowly up and down Harry’s cock, making him whimper. He felt ridiculously hard himself, so he fumbled with his own robes, opening them with his eyes closed.</p><p>“I want you to come in my mouth,” he whispered, breaking the kiss, looking Harry straight in the eyes. They were so green and full of something Draco couldn’t understand. Want, desire, but also something else. Harry groaned and looked at Draco’s wet lips, at his hand firmly stroking both his cock and Harry’s and then he nodded. And Draco closed his eyes again and started pumping his own cock, swallowing Harry’s, feeling him harden and tense up and then come down his throat after a moment, with a loud moan.</p><p>“Draco…fuck…”</p><p>He felt his own orgasm coming, like a light at the end of a tunnel, like white fireworks under his closed eyelids, moaning as Harry’s cock still pulsed in his mouth.</p><p>They didn’t eat any lunch. They were late to their afternoon lessons. They didn’t care.</p><p> </p><p>December arrived and the castle was covered in a thin layer of frost. The windows were frozen shut and small icicles hung from the roof, but their room was still so warm, much warmer than the rest of the school. Draco often wondered if it was all due to Harry’s magic. Or if it was the room itself that was in sync with the fire burning in his veins.</p><p>Draco still had a million questions swimming in his head, a whirlpool of doubts keeping him up at night and distracted during the lessons. He wondered what all of that meant to Harry, what <em>he</em> meant to him. If they were simply soothing each other’s loneliness and heartbreak, licking each other’s wounds. Or if it was more than just comfort, more than curiosity and obvious sexual attraction. He felt like it was so much more than all of that to him, but he didn’t have the courage to ask Harry, terrified of bursting the little bubble they were living in.</p><p>So he let Harry kiss him and touch him like he was something precious that could break into a million pieces, and he continued holding the Gryffindor in his sleep, grabbing his hand when he could see that he was struggling, making him fall apart under his touches and kisses.</p><p>Draco started going to the library again in the early morning, in spite of Harry’s pleas to stay in bed with him a little longer. The dark circles under the Gryffindor’s eyes were gone, because he was having less nightmares now that they were sleeping together. Sometimes Draco woke up to Harry thrashing next to him, whimpering in his sleep, and all it took was a gentle word whispered in his ear, a caress on his head, Draco’s warm arms around him and he calmed down, drifted back into a peaceful sleep.</p><p>Harry showed him how Muggle appliances worked. Draco learnt how to make toast, after burning just a few slices of bread. He boiled his first egg the Muggle way and felt triumphant when he managed to do the laundry without using magic. Father would have had a heart attack seeing the joy in his eyes when he mastered the most difficult appliances, but Draco had stopped caring a while ago and didn’t feel like he needed Lucius’s approval anymore. He didn’t need any more extra lessons with his Professor, catching up in no time under Harry’s guidance.</p><p>He woke up one morning with the Gryffindor’s mouth around his cock and groaned.</p><p>“What are you doing?” he asked, his fingers brushing away the dark curls from Harry’s forehead.</p><p>“Going down on you,” was the reply that came from between his legs, “I know I’m not as good as you.”</p><p>“You’re doing extremely well, sweetheart,” Draco said, his cheeks colouring when he realised the word he had used and then noticing Harry’s smile.</p><p>“Teach me what you like,” he said, kissing the tip of his cock, “I want to make you feel good.”</p><p>And he did, feeling overwhelmed with pleasure and something else, an entirely different feeling that made his heart feel like it was about to burst.</p><p>Draco’s questions kept on piling up in his head, but Harry wasn’t the same. He kept on asking him things, especially about Draco’s previous lovers, wanting to know exactly what he had done and with whom.</p><p>“I told you; I just fooled around with Blaise and I gave Theo a blowjob in the locker rooms after Quidditch once. That was it.”</p><p>“How much did you do with Blaise?” Harry asked, his eyes fixed on him, making Draco wonder why he was so curious.</p><p>“Hand jobs and blowjobs, nothing more,” he was silent for a minute, playing with the cover of his Transfiguration book, “you slept with Ginny, anyway. You’ve done more than me. Why do you care?”</p><p>The answer never came, Harry’s lips collided with his instead, dragging him to bed and undressing him with trembling fingers.</p><p>“You’re mine now,” he whispered in Draco’s ear, sinking his fingers inside him, making Draco gasp and moan loudly, Harry’s lips on his neck, leaving marks and making Draco feel like he finally belonged somewhere, with someone. Making him feel safe. “Mine.”</p><p>“I’m all yours,” he whispered back, coming untouched, just from Harry’s fingers inside him.</p><p>The days went by and the Christmas cheer started filling the corridors and the classrooms. Hagrid had placed two massive trees in the Great Hall and they saw them passing by, still refusing to enter the room. People started talking excitedly about the holidays, about presents and finally spending time with their loved one. And Draco used to love Christmas so much. He used to look forward to spending time with his parents, at home, decorating the Christmas tree with Mother, every bauble with its different little story that she would tell with a smile on her face. He used to spend ages choosing the right present for his friends, waiting impatiently for the owls bringing his own gifts.</p><p>But this year everything felt different. He had nothing to look forward to. He had no home to go back to. He couldn’t see his parents and his friends had all somehow gone quiet in the past month or so, too busy with their new lives to exchange owls with a former Death Eater. All except for Goyle, who was only allowed to write once a month and had wished him a merry Christmas in his December letter, ignoring the fact that there was nothing merry about it.</p><p>Harry was going to the Burrow, even though he kept on asking Draco if he was going to be fine without him.</p><p>“Listen, Potter,” he said, raising an eyebrow at the Gryffindor.</p><p>“Harry.”</p><p>“Listen, Harry,” he continued, “I can cook. I’m not a chef, but I can manage toast and an egg. I will be fine.”</p><p>Harry looked at him, an uncertain expression on his face, as if that was not the answer he was expecting. He became more taciturn as Christmas approached, as if he didn’t want the holidays to start either. McGonagall stared at them at the end of their last Transfiguration lesson, crossing her arms and asking them what had happened.</p><p>“Nothing, why?” was Harry’s reply.</p><p>“It’s the end of term and you both look like it’s the end of the world,” she replied, eyeing them suspiciously.</p><p>Harry packed his trunk, sighing, casting furtive glances at Draco, who was trying to finish his last Muggle Studies essay and just hand it in the following morning and then be done with homework for at least a few days.</p><p>“I can leave later,” Harry said, “I don’t have to take the Hogwarts Express. I can apparate from Hogsmeade.”</p><p>“I know you’re dying to see Weasley,” Draco replied, avoiding his eyes, “and you said Granger was going to be there too. Go and meet up with your friends, Harry. I’ll be fine.”</p><p>“Are you at least going to call your mother?” Harry asked and Draco’s quill came to a stop on his parchment, leaving a dark blue stain that became bigger and bigger.</p><p>“You know I can’t,” he whispered. He wanted to ask why on earth Harry thought it was fine to remind him, when all he was trying to do was forget, not think about how much he missed his family and his home and his own friends. Instead, he used his wand to clean the mess he had made on his essay.</p><p>“Have you at least asked?” Harry continued, unperturbed.</p><p>“Asked who?” he snapped, turning towards Harry and glaring at him, “who was I supposed to fucking ask if I can fire-call my mother on Christmas day? My sentence says that I can’t have contacts with her for at least three years. Three bloody years, Potter! Do you have any idea how that feels? Do you?”</p><p>He knew he had no right to shout at Harry, not when all of that was only his fault. Draco was the only one to blame for his mistakes and he should have been grateful not to be rotting in a cell in Azkaban like Goyle. He had Harry Potter to thank for that.</p><p>“You could have at least tried,” came Potter’s calm reply, “you don’t get anything, unless you ask for it.”</p><p>Potter finished packing in silence and Draco pretended to work on his essay. They went to sleep in separate beds for the first time since the previous month.</p><p>“Is he going to be there?” Draco finally managed to ask in the darkness, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears.</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“Charlie…is he going to be at the Burrow?” he repeated, in a whisper.</p><p>“I don’t think so. I haven’t asked. Why?”</p><p>“Just wondering.”</p><p>They barely spoke the day after, Harry casting glances at him over breakfast, finally touching his hand on their way out, stopping for a second to gently tuck one of Draco’s loose strands behind his ear.</p><p>“Hey,” he said, “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“What for?” Draco answered, grey eyes locking with green.</p><p>“Leaving you here over Christmas.” That was not the reply he was expecting. He wanted to tell Harry not to be a sentimental sap, that he was eighteen and he was fine. But he felt a lump in his throat instead, and he nodded, tears threatening to fall down his cheeks, as Harry put his arms around him and gently kissed the corner of his mouth.</p><p>“I’ll be back soon,” he said, “it’s just a few days.”</p><p>Draco didn’t go and say goodbye to Harry on the train platform when he left. They had exchanged a kiss before parting and that was enough for him. He spent an incredible amount of time making himself dinner instead and then eating on the sofa, marvelling at how much bigger it seemed now that Harry was gone.</p><p>He was the only student left in school and he enjoyed the peace and calm, the fact that he could go to the library whenever he wanted. He wandered around the school grounds, feeling lonely and sad. He didn’t even know if it was because of his first Christmas alone or because Harry wasn’t there with him.</p><p>His feelings were all jumbled up, like a knot that he couldn’t untangle, so he looked for answers in the only place he could find them. He went to the potion lab and gathered the ingredients he needed. Slughorn had granted him permission to practise over the holidays. He set up his cauldron and carefully prepared the ingredients, measuring them precisely, chopping and grinding, stirring for hours. He brought the potion down to a simmer and then observed its mother-of-pearl sheen, the steam rising from it in spirals. A perfectly brewed Amortentia.</p><p>Draco waited for a few minutes before daring to inhale the scent, fearing the answer to his questions. He closed his eyes and stepped closer to the cauldron, his nostrils flaring as he let the smell of dark chocolate, his mother’s perfume and Harry’s apple and cinnamon shampoo fill his senses. He felt a single tear running down his cheek, his bottom lip wobbling. He already knew he was in love with Harry, anyway. Why in Merlin’s name was he getting upset over it?</p><p>He gathered his things and went back to his room, finding McGonagall waiting for him outside of the door.</p><p>“Professor,” he said, wondering what he had done wrong this time.</p><p>“Follow me, Mr Malfoy,” she ordered.</p><p>He followed her down the corridor and up to her office, where she showed him her fireplace and handed him a letter, signed by the Minister of Magic.</p><p>“You only have fifteen minutes,” McGonagall said, leaving the room and Draco felt lost, looking around, until his mother’s face appeared in the flames, the most beautiful smile illuminating her features.</p><p>“Draco, my darling!” she said, “I’ve missed you so much.”</p><p>Draco sank to his knees and cried, telling her how much he had wanted to see her, how he missed her. And the fifteen minutes flew by, but they still felt like the best Christmas present he could have asked for.</p><p>He thanked McGonagall with a sob and she handed him a tissue, looking stiff and awkward. He went back to his room and opened the door, only to find Harry there, sitting on the sofa, waiting for him.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” he asked, in a daze.</p><p>“It turns out I missed you too much to stay at the Burrow without you,” was Harry’s sheepish reply.</p><p>Draco crossed the distance between them and sank into Harry’s arms.</p><p>He was home.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Only one chapter left! Thank you for reading so far. 💙</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They spent Christmas Eve in bed, their naked bodies lazily tangled up. Draco ran his fingers on Harry’s warm skin, stopping every time he found a new scar, pressing his fingertips on it, measuring its length and width, wanting to ask a million questions. He had lots of little marks on his arms and wrist and Draco examined them, lifting Harry’s arm in the faint morning light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you get these?” he finally asked, his voice low. Harry flinched under him, his eyes moving to the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Draco interrupted, knowing too well that Harry didn’t feel like talking about his past.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, no,” the Gryffindor said, frowning, “it’s not okay. Terry says that I need to be more open to you and say the things that matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who the fuck is Terry?” Draco asked, arching an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My Mind Healer,” Harry replied, a smile on his face, looking smug as he caught Draco being jealous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You told him about me?” Draco asked, surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, why? I also told Ron and Hermione about you,” he confessed, his cheeks colouring, “about us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco wanted to ask exactly what he had told Weasley and Granger, what “us” actually meant. Because he wasn’t sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> they were and couldn’t find the words to define it himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, I got this scar when I was seven. I opened the oven to get the roast out and burnt my arm against the tray,” Harry said, pointing at a faint white scar on the inside of his wrist, “and this one is from a hot pan when I was six.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco frowned and grabbed Harry’s chin, tilting it in his direction, to look him straight in the eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who in Merlin’s name let you use the oven and the hob when you were so young?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My Muggle family used to make me cook. For them, you know,” he said sheepishly and Draco felt the anger rising in him, the blood boiling in his veins. His old beliefs on the barbaric behaviour of Muggles threatened to resurface, after so many months spent working on his dismantling them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As soon as my sentence is over, we’re going to find them and hex them,” he declared and Harry’s eyes opened wide and then he started laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be a plonker,” he said, in between giggles, “we’re not making you end up in Azkaban just to curse my family. They’re not worth it, even though they made me spend years sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In a what?!" he screamed, "what the actual fuck, Harry! Tell me their names and I’ll owl them a stink bomb straight away. It’s the least you can let me do!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s beautiful laughter filled every corner of the room, making Draco’s cheeks colour as he moved on top of him, bringing their lips together in a soft kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m over that. I’ve got Ron and Hermione and the Weasleys as my family. I've got you now,” Harry whispered against his lips, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that made Draco’s stomach do a summersault.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want you,” he whispered against Harry’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Harry said, his fingers travelling down Draco’s back, tracing the curve of his hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Inside me,” Draco added, guiding Harry’s hand to his arse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean my fingers?” Harry asked, his pupils blown wide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want your dick inside me,” Draco said, “but you can start with your fingers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry swallowed loudly, his eyes fixed on Draco’s, and then his fingers cupped pale cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure? We’ve never done this before,” he said, “are you sure you want to do it with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, of course,” because who else would he want to do it with, he wondered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s hands were on him, his lips meeting Draco’s in a desperate kiss, and it was like usual between them, from zero to everything in one second, like flash paper catching fire. Draco felt Harry’s fingers sliding through his hair, moving them on the bed so that he was lying on top of Draco, his dick already hard, pressed against Draco’s thigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been waiting for this,” the Gryffindor whispered, breaking the kiss, “wanting this. I need you so badly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s mouth captured his straight away, making Harry moan as pale fingers wrapped around his length and started stroking lazily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t make me come,” Harry said on a shuddered gasp, “I want to be inside you for more than one minute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco started laughing and patted his arse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You came like ten minutes ago, you moron. You need to work on your stamina.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re too hot,” Harry replied all serious, kissing his neck and making Draco bite back a moan, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, “god, I want to be inside you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lube,” Draco reminded him, “get the bottle from my bedside table.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry groaned and leaned into Draco’s touch, shuddering when his thumb swiped over the Gryffindor’s flushed cock, making him gasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t leave the bed when you do things like that to me and my wand is in the kitchen,” Harry complained and Draco chuckled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I don’t have a self-lubricating arse, so you’d better move,” he replied and then his eyes opened wide when he felt something slick between his legs, his entrance suddenly ready and Harry’s warm magic making his skin tingle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Potter, you and your fucking insane magic!” he squirmed, “you lubed me up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry blushed and tried to apologise, but Draco’s lips captured his in another kiss that left them both breathless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t even know why I find it so hot,” Draco admitted, making Harry’s eye open in surprise, “you’re unbelievable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s fingers paused on Harry’s cock as he grabbed his own erection and started stroking them together, making Harry moan, closing his eyes and throwing his head back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Draco…” he said, his lips red and wet, “I want you now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco let go and Harry settled between his legs, gently placing his finger at his entrance, massaging the skin with slick fingers, looking for permission with his eyes. Draco nodded, licking his lips and then arched his back when he felt the familiar intrusion, trying to relax and closing his eyes. A second finger soon followed and Harry moved them inside, hitting that delicious bundle of nerves that made Draco moan and swear, asking for more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re breath-taking,” the Gryffindor said, kissing his neck, adding a third finger and making him whine, the need to be filled the only thing on his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you should turn,” Harry said, casting a protective spell that made Draco’s skin tingle, “I don’t want to hurt you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco did as he was told, his mind like cotton wool, his senses all alight, the need to have Harry inside him overpowering any coherent thought. Harry grabbed his hips and lifted him up, positioning himself behind Draco, stroking his back with warm reassuring hands, moving down his thighs and then sighing as he grabbed his own cock and prodded Draco’s entrance with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushed gently, but nothing happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco…it’s not going in,” he said, his voice sounding panicked and uncertain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t flatter yourself, Potter. You’re not that big.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be a wanker and help me,” Harry replied, smacking his arse playfully. Draco couldn’t suppress a moan and turned to look at him with flushed cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t hurry up and take my virginity within the next two minutes, I might have to resort to wanking, indeed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t very well deflower you, if it won’t even go in!” Harry argued, his eyes big and worried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Deflower</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Have you been reading the dictionary again?” Draco teased, a playful smile on his lips, reaching back with his hand and stroking Harry’s softening erection back into its stiff glory. “Shall I draw you a picture of where your cock should go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco, I swear to god, unless I fuck you in the next minute, I’m going to burst into flames.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Salazar, I want you inside me so badly, Harry. Just relax, push and it will go in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He guided Harry’s hard cock to his entrance and took a deep breath as Harry grabbed his hips and finally breached him with a shocked gasp. He slowly slid inside him, a low moan escaping his lips, as he sank into Draco’s heat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the spirit, Harry,” Draco said and then gasped as Harry started moving, slowly sliding in and out, loving the drag of his dick as he moved inside him, Harry’s fingers gently stroking the small of Draco’s back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Faster, please, I won’t last long,” he whimpered after a while and Harry groaned, slowly picking up the pace and taking him fast and deep, making Draco moan and babble incoherently. He felt Harry’s fingers closing around his cock and he came with a loud moan after only a few strokes, covering the bedsheets in white streaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god,” Harry gasped, holding him close, collapsing on top of him and coming with a soft whine, spilling his warm load deep inside Draco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both lay on the bed panting afterwards, looking into each other’s eyes and smiling. Harry’s magic swiped them clean, leaving Draco warm and sated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that was the best Christmas present you could have ever given me,” Harry said, trying to catch his breath, a blissful expression on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry, you moronic fuck, that was not a Christmas present! I didn’t give you my arse as a gift.” Harry started laughing and gently patted Draco on the cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next year we can sing the Wham! song,” he said and started singing, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>last Christmas, I gave you my arse, but the very next day</span>
  </em>
  <span>-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Salazar, you can’t even hold a tune,” Draco interrupted him, tickling Harry on his side and making him giggle uncontrollably, “and what’s that awful Muggle song?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a classic,” Harry said, laughing, “I’ll teach you the lyrics and we’ll sing it together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not in a million years, you lunatic!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a part of him that felt elated and shocked, because he had just had sex with Harry Potter. Not even in his wildest dreams he would have considered that could ever happen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s words kept on swimming in his head. That “next year” which felt like a promise, as if Harry believed that what they had was not a temporary thing and that it was actually going to last. And Draco wanted it with all of his being, would have given anything to be able to keep Harry by his side, to be his for as long as the Gryffindor wanted him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They spent the rest of the day talking and touching and kissing, exploring each other’s bodies, being soft and silly. Draco felt like his heart had never been so full. He went to bed with a smile on his face, Harry’s arms wrapped tight around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He woke up on Christmas morning and headed for the bathroom, letting Harry sleep for a little longer. He looked at his robes, a sea of black, and shook his head. His fingers quivered as he grabbed his wand and took a deep breath. He spelt his trousers dark grey and his robes a rich emerald green, with silver buttons and lining. He put them on and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He felt guilty, like he was letting down his soulmate by giving up his mourning clothes. But a part of him that he thought had died with his soul bond was actually still alive and had started blossoming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to live.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to be with Harry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was in love with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re wearing colours,” came Harry’s surprised voice from the bed. His glasses were perched precariously on his nose as he stared at him, his hair a lovely mess. Draco turned and stared at him for a few minutes, before nodding. “What does it mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It means that I’m not mourning anymore,” he replied, forcing the words out of his mouth, daring to be honest and bare his heart for once, “because I’m in love with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s green eyes opened wide, staring at him, and his bottom lip started wobbling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You love me?” he asked, barely a whisper, full of disbelief. And Draco wondered how on earth he could even be surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I love you,” he repeated and walked to Harry, who had started crying and had discarded his glasses and was covering his face with his hands, “why are you crying? Is it such bad news?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shook his head and put his arms around Draco’s neck, sobbing into his robes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nobody’s ever told me before,” he said, his voice broken, eyes hidden in Draco’s embrace, “are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not even Weasley and Granger?” he asked and felt Potter shaking his head against his chest, “of course I’m sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You love me…” Harry whispered on a shuddered breath and Draco held him tighter, feeling a little lost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m yours,” he whispered back, placing a kiss on Harry’s soft dark curls, “for as long as you want me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held Harry for what felt like ages, until the Gryffindor drifted back to sleep, thinking about their relationship. He had lost his soulmate and had found Harry. He considered himself lucky and blessed, in spite of all his mistakes and fucked up past. He didn’t think he actually deserved Harry Potter in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Harry’s soulmate was still out there, a perfect match for him. A better match than Draco. And as much as the Gryffindor didn’t want to think about it, Draco knew that that person was going to take all of this away from him. It was just a matter of time. What was left of his sense of self-preservation told him to run and not get too caught up. Because he knew it was going to end in tears. But a part of him just wanted not to be a coward this time. To just dive in and forget about the heartache that was going to follow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjoy it while it lasts, he thought. Harry was worth a broken heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Harry woke up, his eyes all puffy and red, Draco wished him a Merry Christmas with a soft kiss on his forehead and he handed him a small parcel wrapped in red paper with robins and holly on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have much money left,” he explained sheepishly, “but I still wanted to give you something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Other than your virginity?” Harry asked with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, unceremoniously ripping the paper, “you got me socks! With snitches and quaffles! And a new t-shirt; that’s brilliant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your clothes look too baggy on you,” Draco replied and then he blushed when he saw the smile illuminating Harry’s face, how happy he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s also a packet of the new chocolates from Honeydukes! Thank you,” Draco received a tender kiss and a green parcel, the paper stuck together with some weird transparent plastic squares, “what is this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Christmas present,” Harry said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You already gave me the best present I could ask for!” he complained, “I got to see my mother thanks to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry frowned and shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That wasn’t me,” he explained, “it was McGonagall. I heard Arthur talking about it while I was at the Burrow. Apparently, she stormed into the Minister’s office and started shouting at him, saying that it was pure cruelty and it was Christmas and you were just eighteen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco felt a lump in his throat and his eyes threatening to water. He stared at the parcel in his hands and saw Harry’s fingers closing on his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, are you okay?” the Gryffindor asked and Draco nodded, opening his present, biting back the tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got me </span>
  <em>
    <span>Potions Weekly</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he muttered, “and a ticket to a Quidditch match. Harry, I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you’re under house arrest, but I officially asked for permission and it was granted. Provided that I keep an eye on you and don’t let you wander off,” he winked at him, “and it’s a yearly subscription to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Potions Weekly</span>
  </em>
  <span>, because you always get it from the library and sometimes it’s not available and you get all annoyed and start moaning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco felt at a loss for words, his lips quivering, feeling Harry’s arm circling his waist and drawing him closer. He didn’t deserve to be this happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shall we make some breakfast? I’m starving,” Harry said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s already lunchtime,” he muttered, his voice cracking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t promise a roast, but I will do my best to make you something special. Let’s go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They opened the door to the kitchen, still in their pyjamas, and stared. There was a Christmas banquet laid out on the table. One of the House-elves was putting the finishing touches to the turkey and when he spotted them, he let out a tiny squeak and disappeared with a loud crack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess this is also McGonagall’s doing,” Harry said, shaking his head with a smile, “I think we ought to send her a thank you note later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was in disbelief, rooted to the spot, Harry’s fingers wrapping around his wrist, grounding him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s eat, shall we?” he gently said and Draco nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It ended up being one of the best Christmas days he’d ever had. It felt like a dream and he found himself asking Harry to pinch him, because he couldn’t believe that it was real.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>New Year arrived and with it the news that Hermione Granger would be returning to Hogwarts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her parents’ memories are stable enough and McGonagall agreed on her coming back when the new term starts,” Harry explained over breakfast, reading the message his friend had sent him, “she’s going to have a lot of catching up to do, but she can do it. She could probably take her N.E.W.T.s tomorrow, knowing her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco felt a lump in his throat. He was happy for Harry, who seemed excited at the idea of Granger’s return. He deserved to have his friend back. But that also meant the end of their little bubble of happiness. Because he was sure Harry would start studying with her as soon as she was back, maybe even eating in the Great Hall with the rest of the Gryffindors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was a bundle of nerves when the Hogwarts Express arrived, taking back all the students the day before the new term started. Harry kept on casting inquisitive glances in his direction, asking if he was okay. He hid in the library, saying that he needed to finish an essay for Ancient Runes, unable to concentrate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Would Granger try to split them up, he wondered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t blame her, to be honest, Harry could find a better match than a Death Eater. If the papers found out, it would be hell on earth, Draco considered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely slept the night before the lessons started. He huddled up closer, against Harry’s warm body and tried to enjoy the quiet before the storm, the fear of losing everything making him feel panicky, the anxiety chipping away at his sanity. He woke up early and got dressed quietly, heading for the library. It was still dark outside and he sat at his usual table, scattering his books and quills on the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nearly jumped when someone sat opposite him. He raised his eyes, his hand automatically going for his wand, and nearly gasped when bushy hair and piercing brown eyes met his gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Malfoy,” Granger said with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Granger,” he replied, his voice giving away his surprise. He waited for the insults and the confrontation. He had a list of arguments in his head in defence of his relationship with Harry and he swallowed loudly, preparing for the worst. But it never came. She simply sat there and got her books and quill out and then started studying in silence. Draco looked around, at the deserted tables, wondering why on earth she had decided to sit at his desk. He tried to continue writing his essay, but couldn’t concentrate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Granger, spill the beans,” he said, crossing his arms and staring at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What beans?” she replied, feigning ignorance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what Potter told you, but you clearly know </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And you can’t possibly approve of what’s going on between us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She eyed him curiously and then smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry’s old enough to do what he wants. Besides, his love life is none of my concerns.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco faltered when he heard that word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Love…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What exactly has he told you?” he asked, leaning forward. But she shook her head and pointed her quill at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should be discussing this with Harry, not with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deep down Draco knew she was right, but he had carefully avoided talking about their relationship and what was going to happen after Hogwarts, too terrified of what Harry would say. Of being rejected or finding out that he was planning on marrying Ginevra Weasley or looking for his soulmate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared outside, at the pink and orange clouds colouring the sky at dawn, trying to breathe and find a purpose to his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could I please borrow your Arithmancy notes?” Granger asked and he raised an eyebrow at her. “Come on, we’re going to spend an awful lot of time together from now on. Let’s call a truce.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged and sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I supposed so. But I want something in return.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granger raised both eyebrows at him and seemed to consider whether to hex him or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go ahead,” she said, her gaze calculating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want advice,” he bit on his bottom lip, his leg bouncing under the table, “on Potter. He’s not very good at talking about his feelings. And neither am I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tilted her head and sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think it would be fair on Harry. And besides, the two of you need to start properly talking. But I’ll think about it,” was all she said and then she resumed her studies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco went back to his room for breakfast, wondering if Harry was going to be there, looking surprised when he found him already buttering up his toast and handing him a plate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re late,” the Gryffindor said, “did you lose track of time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco nodded and sat down, unable to say much, too worried about the day ahead. Wondering if Harry was going to pair up with Granger in Potions or if she was going to join their group. He was scared of change. It always meant bad things were going to happen and he’d had enough of bad stuff happening to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry seemed completely oblivious of his internal struggles, whistling happily as they headed to the Potions Lab, waving at Granger when she came in and sat down on her own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, is she not going to…?” Draco asked, and Harry smiled at him, a bemused look on his face, “never mind…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went back to their room for lunch, thinking it was going to be a blow, that Harry wasn’t going to be there, but he actually was, greeting Draco with a soft kiss and a sandwich. He even studied with him in the afternoon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was a bundle of nerves by the evening, his lips bleeding from how much he had bitten on them and his legs a jittery mess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” Harry asked again, frowning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he replied and then tried to focus on his book while Harry sat next to him and got his own homework out, while his stew was gently bubbling on the stove. “Do you need help with your homework?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to ask Harry a million questions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What am I to you?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What’s going to happen to us once the school year is over?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Could you ever consider not looking for your soulmate and settling for me?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you thought of what you’re going to do next year?” is what he asked instead, his fingers playing nervously with the hem of his untucked shirt. Harry’s eyes paused on his and then looked at his own hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no idea,” the Gryffindor said, “I know I should know, but I have no clue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s hand found Harry’s wrist and he gently placed it there, his fingers curling around the skinny expanse of veins and caramel skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need to know,” he gently said, “you have a right to be confused and not take a decision right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you going to do?” Harry asked, finally meeting his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure either,” he said, “there’s a number of things I would like to do, but I don’t think anyone would employ a former Death Eater. So my options are quite limited. There’s the Ministry’s programme for reformed criminals that I could apply to, but it’s mainly for menial jobs for people who don’t even have OWLs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to get Os in all your N.E.W.T.s, Draco,” Harry shook his head, “what do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Potions,” he found himself replying, a mere impulse, something he hadn’t even given himself a chance to wish for, “I would like to be a Potions Master. But no one will take me as an apprentice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Slughorn could,” Harry suggested, his arm turning and his fingers interlacing with Draco’s, “we could ask him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me talk to him,” Harry pleaded, “please, let me help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco didn’t want any special treatment. He didn’t deserve it, not after what he had done. So he shook his head, but Harry was a stubborn Gryffindor and he spent the following days trying to convince him, running his gentle hands on his back, making him delicious dinners and showering him with love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know what you’re thinking,” Harry said, his face buried between Draco’s arse cheeks, his tongue darting out to tentatively tease his entrance, “you think you don’t deserve it and that you’re not good enough. But you are. You’re brilliant and smart and hard-working.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco couldn’t help but moan as he felt the warm and wet touch of Harry’s tongue sliding across his rim, all coherence lost to the sheer pleasure of being naked and at Harry’s mercy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are worth it,” Harry whispered, hot breath against Draco’s skin, his tongue sliding inside and making Draco swear out loud, “mmmh, fuck, Draco. I want you so badly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t even manage to beg Harry to fuck him, because the Gryffindor was inside him before he could blink, making Draco gasp and moan, his fingers buried in his pillow as he called out Harry’s name over and over again, lost in pleasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me help you,” Harry groaned, punctuating his words with a slap of his hips against Draco’s arse, filling him up with his hard cock, “I want to make you happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco came with a soft whine, feeling Harry’s deep groan a few seconds later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” he panted, Harry’s warm come sliding out of his arse and his arms wrapped around him, “you win.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could feel Harry’s smile against his shoulder blade, his magic like a gentle wave over his skin, cleaning him up and making him feel cuddled and cherished. He knew he didn’t deserve it. But Harry seemed to think otherwise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slughorn was hard to convince, though, but Harry was persuasive enough. Granger seemed to have a say in it too, talking to the Professor, until he eventually gave up and agreed to mentor Draco the following year, provided that he achieved an O in Potions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was speechless and didn’t know how to say thanks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could start by giving me your Arithmancy and Ancient Runes notes,” said Granger, “and then your Muggle Studies and Potions notes too. Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave her everything, too shocked to argue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>January rolled into February and then crocuses and daffodils started appearing amongst the grass. Draco walked around the school grounds, his hand holding Harry’s, face buried in his scarf, wondering if this was all a dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then March arrived and April soon followed. The days went by so fast and Draco started wondering what was going to happen once the school year was over. What were they going to do?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ask him,” Granger suggested, her face buried in Draco’s notes, “he’s shit at discussing his feelings. He needs prodding and direct questioning. He’s not used to being loved and he’s terrified of losing what he has.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco tried, but he couldn’t find the right words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, on a Saturday morning in early May, Weasley came to visit for a picnic by the lake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try to be nice to him,” Harry warned, looking anxious and pale, “he won’t bite, unless you provoke him. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will do my best,” Draco replied stiffly, arching an eyebrow, “but I can’t promise anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t stand Weasley, but he was willing to try. For Harry’s sake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it was awkward and weird; Harry was too loud, Weasley was too grumpy and Granger was too condescending. But they made it through without hexing each other. And then, as they were walking back to the castle and Harry was holding Granger’s arm and whispering something in her ear, Weasley grabbed Draco’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Malfoy,” he hissed, “Listen to me now. You might have changed and Harry for some unknown reason has decided to be with you, Merlin knows why. But if you break Harry’s heart, I swear I will break your legs.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weasley, you uncouth imbecile,” he whispered back, trying to avoid being heard by Harry, “Harry’s more than capable of looking after himself and besides, who tells you he’s not going to be the one breaking </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> heart?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ginger Gryffindor took a deep sigh and made a grimace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately, I have my doubts that’s ever going to happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to ask what that meant, but Granger was already staring at them suspiciously and Harry’s fingers were interlacing with Draco’s, a soft happy smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want this to end,” Harry said that evening, lying naked in bed next to him, his face resting on Draco’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me neither,” he confessed. He took a deep breath and tried to face his fears, “what are you going to do when school ends?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not sure, but I think I might consider teaching DADA, if I ever manage to do the exam. Teaching other students back in fifth year was brilliant. I felt like I was good at it. McGonagall said she would write a recommendation letter for me and I could train in a DADA institute. What about you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to look for a place to live,” Draco replied, feeling his fingers tingle because of the anxiety, his breath coming short at the thought of separating from Harry, “and then study to become a Potions Master.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry lifted his head and stared at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean find a place?” he asked, furrowing his brows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t go back to the Manor. It’s been sold,” Draco replied and they both sat up in bed, looking at each other. Harry put his glasses on and took a deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You…I…that’s not how it’s supposed to go!” he said and then groaned and took Draco’s hand in his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Draco whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a house. I inherited it from Sirius,” he said, his thumb gently stroking Draco’s skin, “and it’s big and dark and gloomy, full of weird and scary things. It’s a house, but it’s not a home yet. I need you there with me for it to become my home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco opened his mouth, but no sound came out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Move in with me,” Harry said, a pleading desperate tone to his words, “don’t leave me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Draco replied, a whisper, then stronger, “I would never leave you. I love you with all my heart, broken and damaged as it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s eyes lit up and his fingers found Draco’s face, cupping it gently as he looked into his grey eyes with affection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too, Draco,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then a lot of things happened all at once. Draco felt a tear running down his cheeks and a sob getting stuck in his throat. Harry started laughing and at the same time a light appeared between them. Draco stared down at his left hand and saw his soul bond suddenly appear and sparkle, emerald green and alive, so alive, as it quivered and connected to Harry’s little finger. It flashed and glimmered, illuminating their faces, as they both stared at it in awe, speechless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Draco who eventually broke their mesmerised silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This…it can’t be possible!” he said, his voice cracking, “it was broken. I saw it so many times, Harry. It was severed. My soulmate died in the Battle of Hogwarts!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s mouth opened in surprise and then he shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s because I died,” he simply said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You what?!” Draco exclaimed, confused, “Harry, you lunatic, what are you on about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I died in the forest,” Harry said, tilting his head, reconnecting their hands, “but I came back. And the thread must have broken. I’m sorry for making you suffer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco felt new tears running down his cheeks and Harry’s lips kissing them away, his gentle hands sliding through his hair, telling him that everything was okay now. They had found each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you wore black for me for so long,” Harry said, shaking his head, “that you mourned for my loss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You kept me alive during the War,” Draco explained, “the only thing that kept me going was the soul bond between us and my heart broke into a million pieces when it was gone. But it’s alive now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t stop looking at the green thread linking their fingers and their lives, feeling its magic pulsating and filling him with happiness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you’re okay with me being your soulmate?” he asked much later, in the early hours of the day, still unable to sleep, but happy to lie in Harry’s arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, I am,” Harry answered, “and besides, we can still fuck up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s well romantic, cheers Potter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry chuckled and squeezed his hand, then lay a soft kiss on Draco’s forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What I meant is that I chose to be with you, before I even knew about the bond. And that’s what matters to me. Choosing to be with each other, day by day, because we love each other and not because we’re soulmates.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco felt his heart beating madly in his chest, full to the brim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to let you go,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Harry said with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, I hope that doesn’t mean that I have to be friends with Weasley. I actually quite like Granger, although she can be annoying at times. But Weasley…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid you’ll have to learn to tolerate each other,” Harry answered serenely. “Besides, you’re going to end up spending an awful lot of time together. If you’re lucky enough, though, Molly might even knit you a Weasley jumper next Christmas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco groaned and wondered out loud what in Merlin’s name he had got himself into, making Harry playfully pinch him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you inherited the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black,” Draco said, “Mother used to go there all the time, when she was little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kreacher is going to have a field day when you two meet, since you’re a pureblood and your mum was a Black,” Harry sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s Kreacher?” Draco asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My House-elf,” Harry answered, “I think you are going to get on well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you still cook for me? Even if you have a House-elf,” Draco asked sheepishly and Harry smiled at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you want me to, why? Do you like it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’re sexy and sweet when you’re busy preparing food for me,” Draco confessed, feeling Harry’s hands holding him close, their lips suddenly meeting, magic sparking between them. And Draco realised that what he had thought for so many months was Harry’s crazy magic was probably just their bond. Making him feel that they matched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not as sexy as when you teach me stuff,” Harry replied, his eyes dark and hungry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You remember when you tried to teach me how to cast a Patronus?” Draco asked, as Harry’s fingers roamed down his body. His lips traced Draco’s jaw and then moved down to his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” Harry replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I finally have a happy memory that I can use,” Draco confessed and the smile Harry gave him made him realise that he will probably have a lot more in the future.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll try later,” Harry said, “there’s something else I’d rather do now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco simply couldn't say no.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for all the people who have read, left kudos and comments.<br/>I have a new Drarry fic coming up soon and hopefully I will be able to post it next week.</p><p>I post my Drarry microfics <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/orange-peony/search/drarry+microfic">here</a>; come and say hi.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments and kudos make my day.<br/></p></blockquote></div></div>
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